The Badly Written Beginning
by Random Little Writer
Summary: The first in a series of parodies, in which the Baudelaires grow beards, Count Olaf dances, Mr. Poe talks like a gangster, words get misspelled, and the fourth wall is broken mercilessly.
1. Avoid This Story Like The Plague

**The Badly Written Beginning**

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler._

Author's Note: _Guess what? Random's back for good this time, and hopefully she's a much better writer than she used to be. Don't ask me why I've been gone so long; blame school, new obsessions, and life in general. I deleted a lot of my old stories since I couldn't read them without feeling ill. Only two of my older works survived (both one-shots), and some new-and-improved versions of other old stories might pop up. I know the parody thing has been done before, but I hope to put a new spin on it. So, I hope you enjoy my comeback fanfic, and be sure to leave a review!_

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**Chapter 1: Avoid This Story Like The Plague**

Hello, reader. My name is Random Little Writer, and I will be filling in for Lemony Snicket. Mr. Snicket is currently hiding from the police in a file cabinet at an undisclosed location, and he asked me to do the honors of writing this story. Keep in mind that not all events will stay true to what Mr. Snicket dictated to me, because it's much more fun to mess up a few details every now and then.

Before we begin, there is a message Mr. Snicket would like me to relay to you, and I quote: "Please, whatever you do, don't read this story! It's depressing! Seriously, there's nothing happy in it! Well, okay, I lied. There _are _a few good parts in the middle, but that's about it. So, like I said, avoid this story like the plague! Thank you."

Now that that's out of the way, let's start the story.

Our story begins at Briny Beach. It was gray and cloudy, and it was raining cats and dogs. Quite literally, I might add. But the falling animals didn't bother the three Baudelaire siblings, because on days like these, nobody else was there to bother them. Well, with the possible exception of a few rabid dogs or cats, but they were almost always scared off by Sunny, the youngest Baudelaire, who had four large and scary sharp teeth. All she had to do was flash her teeth at the animals, and they'd be gone in an instant.

While Sunny was busy intimidating a pit bull that had tried to harass her, her older siblings were doing what they liked. Violet Baudelaire, the eldest, was shooting rocks into the ocean with a slingshot she had made herself. Violet was a skilled inventor who could build any device out of any items she could find lying around. One time she made a grenade out of measuring tape. Or was that my cousin? Yeah, that was my cousin. Sorry 'bout that.

Klaus Baudelaire, the middle child, was using a book as a shield to protect himself from the cats and dogs that were falling down around him. He was also trying to read the book, but if I told you it was easy to read a book _and _shield yourself with it, I'd be lying. Klaus was also on the lookout for any exotic animals that were in the water, but he didn't find any. He just found a bunch of boring old cats and dogs getting carried away by the tide.

"Man, what a rip-off!" he whined. "This place is so _boring!_" Suddenly, he screamed and ran away, narrowly missing a sheepdog.

"You know, I'd have to agree," said Violet, who aimed a rock at the pit bull Sunny had been scaring. The pit bull whimpered and scurried away. Sunny wasn't paying attention anymore. She was staring at something coming out of the fog. What, you didn't know there was fog there? Well, it was there! I just forgot to describe it! But since it's all gray and cloudy, isn't the fog kind of a given?

"Hey, can we get back to the story now?" Violet asked.

No, you can't. I'm still having a debate with myself.

"Can't it wait?"

NO!

Violet pouted.

Since that was settled, I went on to contemplate whether or not fog was a given on a cloudy day. This went on for a good four hours until Klaus rudely fast-forwarded the story and interrupted me. I pouted. Violet pointed and laughed. I glared. Violet shut up.

So, there was this creature-type thing coming out of the fog, right? And Sunny was staring at it. She was all, like, hypnotized. Then she shrieked, "Dosomethingviolet!"

You know what? I'm not even gonna bother with a long, explanatory paragraph about Sunny's baby language. Let's just say that what she meant was difficult to make out, but it was roughly translated as, "Do something, Violet!"

"I'm on it, Sunny!" Violet declared. She aimed the slingshot at the approaching figure and shot a rock at its head. The figure staggered backwards, clutching its head and moaning in pain. A cat landed on him, and it didn't make things any better, because it raked its claws across the figure's face and jumped off.

"OWWWWW!" screamed the figure. "Dude, it's just me, Mr. Poe! Jeez."

"Oops," Violet said.

"Oops," Klaus said.

"Oops," Sunny said.

The Poe-figure stepped out of the fog, ignoring the various cats and dogs that hit him, and wiping the blood away from his cuts. The Baudelaires noticed a dent in Mr. Poe's head from where Violet's rock struck him, and they started to giggle.

"You think this is funny?" Mr. Pie snarled. Then he looked over at me. "_What _did you call me?"

Oh, crap, did I just write "Mr. Pie"? Sorry, I have Guilter's Type. Let me try this again…

"You think this is funny?" Mr. Poe snarled. Ah, there we go. "Well, you won't be laughing when you hear what I have to tell you!"

"What are you gonna tell us?" asked Klaus, because he wasn't getting enough dialogue.

Mr. Poe's face became very grave and serious. "I'm here to tell you that…I…am…your MOM!" Then he started giggling.

There was an awkward silence, and everything seemed to stop. The dogs and cats froze in place like a movie put on pause.

"Aw, come on, didn't you think that was funny?" Mr. Poe asked.

"Actually, it was pretty lame," Klaus said.

"Yarzack?" Sunny asked, probably meaning something along the lines of, "Mr. Poe, are you okay?"

Mr. Poe sniffed haughtily. "Fine! If you brats can't appreciate my great comedic talent, I'll just give you the bad news. Your parents are dead, and your house burned to a crisp. There, are you happy now?"

"WHAT?" Violet screamed. "You tell us that our parents are dead and our house burned down, and then you ask us if we're _happy? _What kind of jerk _are _you?" She backhanded the right side of Mr. Poe's face, causing him even more pain.

"_Oooooooh!_" he growled, narrowing his eyes down to slits as he glared at Violet. "You—you—oh, just wait. I'll get you for this one day…"

"HEY!" Klaus shouted. "Have you already forgotten the subject of our parents dying and our house burning down? Where are we gonna live?"

Mr. Poe brightened at Klaus's question. "Well, you see, I know a man named Count Olaf," he said. "He's your mother's cousin's grandma's brother's fourth cousin's sister's father's aunt's great-uncle's mother's great-great-grandmother's great-grandson's daughter's sister's second cousin's first cousin's husband's mother's brother's wife's—"

This went on for quite some time. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny all fell asleep.

Two hours went by.

Then three.

Then four.

Then five.

Then six.

Then seven.

Then eight.

Then nine.

Then ten.

Then a whole day went by, and nobody noticed.

Then the rest of the week went by.

Then the rest of the month.

The rest of the year.

Hundreds of centuries went by, and Mr. Poe was _still _talking.

Then, just when the Baudelaires thought it would never end…(dun, dun, DUUUUUNNNN)…it ENDED.

"—grandpa's uncle's sixty-sixth cousin seventeen times removed," Mr. Poe finished. He, Violet, Klaus, Sunny, and all the cats and dogs had grown beards because of how many centuries had passed. "That's who you three will be staying with."

"Eternity," Sunny remarked, saying something that probably meant, "That's a mouthful."

Violet felt something on her face, then shrieked. "EEEK! I have a BEARD! I can't be seen in public with a _beard!_"

"Settle down!" Mr. Poe said. "When we get to my house, you guys can shave your beards off, okay? Now, get in the car, please."

"We're going to _your _house? But that place stinks! Literally!" Klaus protested. Violet and Sunny shuddered in unison at the thought of going to Mr. Poe's house. When they'd visited with their parents, one of Mr. Poe's sons had emitted a rather nasty fart, and everyone had to wear gas masks for the duration of the visit.

"Well, you'll be going to Count Olaf's house soon," Mr. Pie…dang it, I did it _again! _Hang on a sec…

"Well, you'll be going to Count Olaf's house soon," Mr. Poe explained, a little irritated. "Can we just get in the car now?"

"Unknown," Sunny said, probably meaning something like, "But we've never heard of this Olaf guy before."

"Shut up, foo'!" Mr. Poe yelled. "Just get in the frickin' car, or I'll mess you up, yo!" He snapped his fingers and bobbed his head to the side.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny backed away slowly. Then they walked toward the car. Sunny almost tripped over her beard, which was about as big as she was. Mr. Poe smiled pleasantly and followed the trio into the car, getting into the driver's seat.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he said.

"Yes, it was," Klaus muttered.

"I still have a beard!" Violet whined.

Mr. Poe rolled his eyes and pulled a razor out of his pocket. "If I give this to you, will you shut up?" he asked.

"MINE!" Violet screeched. She tackled Mr. Poe and snatched the razor out of his hand. Then she grinned smugly at her siblings and started to shave her beard.

"Can I use that when you're done?" Klaus asked.

"No," Violet said.

Klaus pouted.

* * *

Author's Note: _Okay, as first chapters go, that definitely wasn't my best work. But I hope it at least satisfied you guys, and I promise the other chapters will improve upon this one._

_NOTE: Guilter's Type is one of my inside jokes. It's when you make a lot of spelling mistakes while typing._


	2. Did I Just Make A Continuity Error?

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler. The song "Burning Down The House" belongs to the Talking Heads. M&M's belong to Mars, Incorporated. The Cha Cha Slide belongs to whoever made it up._

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**Chapter 2: Did I Just Make A Continuity Error?**

Reader, I'll be honest with you: I'm surprised you've made it this far. I was worried that Mr. Snicket's warning from the previous chapter would turn you off from the story and make you not want to read it. Needless to say, I am quite pleased. I don't know how Mr. Snicket will feel, but that's a whole 'nother ball of wax. Candle wax, of course, because earwax is gross.

Where were our protagonists when we saw them last? Ah, yes. Mr. Poe's car. Violet shaved off her beard, getting white hair all over the seat, and she refused to hand over the razor. Klaus, Sunny, and Mr. Poe amused themselves by picking stuff out of their beards. Klaus pulled out a stapler, a fax machine, a volume of the encyclopedia, a cat, and a laptop. Sunny pulled out a broken VCR, a bag of M&M's, a teething ring, a plate of brownies, and a magnet. Mr. Poe (who was still gangsta) pulled a huge, shiny, solid gold medallion out of his beard and put it around his neck. Unfortunately for him, the medallion was so heavy that his head slumped forward onto the steering wheel, so he couldn't see where he was driving.

Klaus leaned over and tapped Mr. Poe on the shoulder. "Hey, do you know where we're going?" he asked.

Mr. Poe pulled off the heavy medallion and was finally able to sit upright. "We're headin' to the hood to see if we can save anything from your crib," he said.

"Sunny's crib?" Violet asked. At the mention of her name, Sunny looked up. When nobody said anything to her, she went back to stuffing her face with M&M's.

"No, foo'. The place where you reside," Mr. Poe explained.

A lightbulb went off in Violet's head. "Ohhhh! You mean our _house! _Okay, I get it." She stuck her tongue out at Klaus and Sunny. "_I _understand gangsta-speak, and _you _DON'T! HA!"

"Ungan," said Sunny, who probably meant something like, "Why would you even _want _to understand gangsta-speak? It's stupid, and it doesn't make any sense."

Violet blinked, taking in what Sunny just told her, and everyone rode in silence for the rest of the trip. Well, everyone except Sunny, who was finishing off the M&M's, and Mr. Poe, who was making beat-box noises for no apparent reason other than to irritate the Baudelaires. He succeeded.

When they arrived at the Baudelaire mansion, they found almost no trace of a building aside from a smoking pile of ash and pieces of broken glass scattered everywhere. None of the children's possessions had survived, having been melted into useless puddles of muck. In short, whoever (or whatever) had caused the fire had done a very thorough job of ruining everything in sight.

"Well, this sucks," Mr. Poe said. "Looks like we can't save nothin' from the crib. Let's head to Count Olaf's place, dawgs! I hear he's got a bad crib, man!"

"Wait!" Klaus said. "I thought you said we had to go to your crib—er, house, so Sunny and I could shave our beards off!"

There was a record scratch in the distance.

Holy _spit,_ did I just make a continuity error?

"Yeah," Sunny said, not needing to be translated for once.

"But I already shaved my beard. We don't _need _to go to Mr. Poe's house," Violet said.

"Yeah, we do!" Klaus argued. "Sunny and I need to shave our beards!"

"Me too, man," Mr. Poe agreed. "Raise your hand if ya wanna go to the Poe crib!"

Klaus and Sunny raised their hands.

"And raise your hand if ya wanna go to Count Olaf's crib!"

Violet raised her hand.

Mr. Poe turned the car around. "Looks like we're goin' to the Poe crib, homies," he said, ignoring Violet's glare. "My—"

WAIT!

The car stopped.

I made another continuity error, guys! Remember in the first chapter when the Baudelaires didn't want to go to Mr. Poe's house because it stank? Well, I made Klaus and Sunny want to go to Mr. Poe's house in this chapter! I need to fix it!

"Nuwat!" Sunny shrieked, just as I was about to press the backspace key on my keyboard. She meant something along the lines of, "No, you don't! My siblings and I will brave the strongest of smells if it means getting rid of our beards."

"She's right," Klaus said.

Oh, really? Hmm. Okay, the continuity error's fixed now! Go to Mr. Poe's crib—er, house, everyone!

Violet was about to protest, but Klaus whacked her in the head with his fax machine.

The car started up again and headed in the direction of Mr. Poe's crib—er, house…oh, who cares? Let's just call it the crib-house. So, Mr. Poe was driving in the direction of his crib-house, talking while he did. "Like I was sayin', my crib's pretty bad, too. I got a lady and a couple of homeboys. Know my homeboy Albert, who made that nasty fart?"

"Eeeeewwww!" the Baudelaires screamed in unison. They knew Albert all too well.

"Well, my lady barricaded his room, yo. He can't come out no more unless he's got to pee."

"YAY!" the Baudelaires cheered.

After that, they drove to Mr. Poe's crib-house in near-silence. Mr. Poe was making beat-box noises again, and Sunny was snacking noisily on her brownies since the M&M's were all gone. When they got to the crib-house, Mr. Poe ran out of the car, carrying his heavy gold medallion behind him and leaving the Baudelaires to fend for themselves. Soon after, Violet, Klaus, and Sunny followed him inside. Sunny finished her last brownie and tossed the plate to the side. The cat that was pulled out of Klaus's beard made a beeline for a nearby alley, hoping not to run into the crazy humans again.

"Yo, yo, yo! I be bringin' some orphan childrens to the hood!" Mr. Pie…_crap, I did it AGAIN._ Oh, whatever. I'm not going to bother retyping anything. Mr. Poe darted into the kitchen with the Baudelaires in tow. Mrs. Pie…

Oh.

My.

God.

Did I just type "Mrs. Pie"?

"YES!" shrieked Violet, who was clearly agitated. "Yes, Random. You just typed 'Mrs. Pie.' Now can you _please _stop freaking out about your spelling mistakes and get back to the story?" She tried to pull out the razor to threaten me, but she found that it was gone. "Hey, what happened to the razor?"

Ooh, another continuity error. Well, actually, I'm the one who made the razor disappear. I wanted to punish Violet. Hee hee hee.

"Vishpi?" asked Sunny, who must have meant something like, "Why do I get the feeling I'm going to hear that laugh again later in life?"

Because you will, Sunny. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get on with the chapter. Mrs. Poe and Edgar gave Mr. Poe weird looks. Albert couldn't give him a weird look, because he was still in his room. But I bet that if he had been in the kitchen, he would have given his father a weird look. Since that's over and done with, I think it's about time for Klaus, Sunny, and Mr. Poe to shave their beards.

"Finally!" said Klaus.

"Nifin!" said Sunny.

"Score!" said Mr. Poe. He turned to his wife. "Yo, Polly, where's the extra razor?"

"In the bathroom cabinet," Mrs. Poe said. She smiled at me. "Thank you for not calling me 'Mrs. Pie.'"

You're welcome.

"Am I ever gonna have dialogue?" Edgar asked.

You just did.

"Oh."

So the three bearded people went to the bathroom to shave their beards. Klaus went first. Sunny went next. She took quite a long time, since she was an infant and wasn't exactly experienced with razors, not to mention the fact that her beard was the same size as her. Mr. Poe passed the time by doing The Cha Cha Slide. (I was tempted to join in, because seriously, who can resist The Cha Cha Slide? But then I remembered I had a story to write.) Finally, Mr. Poe shaved his beard. Since he was an adult, he was done in a flash. Then he made the Baudelaires go back out to the car so he could take them to Count Olaf's house.

"But you guys just got here!" Mrs. Poe protested. "And we're going to eat dinner soon!"

"WHERE'S MY FOOD, FOO'?" Albert shouted from his room. He desperately needed dialogue, so I hope that made him happy.

"Lady, I got stuff to do," Mr. Poe said. "Plus, I wanna get the childrens outta my hair, ya know?"

Mrs. Poe shrugged, most likely thinking of her own children. "That's understandable."

Mr. Poe piled the Baudelaires into his car again and drove to Count Olaf's house. What? You didn't forget about HIM, did you? Anyway, Sunny was out of snacks, so she was bored out of her mind. Violet didn't have the razor anymore, so she was bored out of her mind. Klaus had the encyclopedia to read, so he wasn't bored. Mr. Poe was back to beat-boxing, so he was content. Everybody else was annoyed, but at least _somebody _was happy!

Uh-oh, another continuity error. Sunny had the teething ring! Silly me! So Sunny wasn't bored, because she had the teething ring. Okay, we're good.

When they drove into Count Olaf's neighborhood (or "hood," if you prefer using gangsta-Poe terminology), the Baudelaires' mouths fell open. They were looking at the most beautiful house on the street—maybe even the world! Everything was clean and polished, and there were flowerpots everywhere. Filled with, uh, flowers. Birds sang merrily as they flew overhead. In short, it was the house of their dreams.

"That place looks cool!" Violet said approvingly. "I hope we live there!"

A woman came out of the front door, holding yet another flowerpot. This woman was Justice Strauss, obviously. She saw the car and waved. "Hi, people!" she greeted. "Wanna come hang out in my library?"

"Are you married to Count Olaf or something?" Klaus asked, confused.

Justice Strauss turned as pale as a sheet. "Me, married to…to_…Count_ _Olaf?_" she asked. She shook her head. "No way! Not in a million years! He's the creepy dude who lives over there!" She pointed somewhere down the street.

The Baudelaires and Mr. Poe stepped out of the car and turned around to get a better look. The Baudelaires' mouths fell open again, but for a different reason. Count Olaf's house was in even worse condition than the burned Baudelaire mansion, if such a thing was possible. Dirt, dust, and grime covered the whole building. All the windows were broken, and one of the windows was next to a garbage can that flies were hovering over. A giant tower seemed to come out of the house, sagging to the left. The house sagged to the right, as though it and the tower had smashed into each other. On the front door was a carving of an eye, as well as cracking and peeling paint.

"Yuck," Sunny said.

"Told ya it was a bad crib, didn't I?" Mr. Poe said.

"Yeah, you got the 'bad' part right," Klaus said, wrinkling his nose. "What's that smell?"

Mr. Poe shrugged. "It don't matter, childrens. Let's get goin'!" He somehow managed to seize all three children with both of his arms, then dragged them to Count Olaf's front porch. He knocked on the door, but nobody answered.

"Mivish," said Sunny, who meant something along the lines of, "Maybe he's not home."

Violet's ears picked up some sort of sound, and she (reluctantly) pressed her head against the grimy door to hear it better. "Hey, it sounds like there's music playing in there!" she said excitedly, and flung open the door to reveal Count Olaf doing a funky dance in the middle of his living room. The song "Burning Down The House" was blasting out of a boombox. Seeing that he had company, Olaf immediately stopped dancing, shut the boombox off, and grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry," he said. "Random likes that song, and she thinks it fits me well. And I think it's good to dance to, so…" He shrugged, then clapped his hands together. "So these are the Baudelaires! What are you waiting for? Get in here!"

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny did as Olaf said, only to find that the interior of the house was just as messy as the exterior.

"Hey, people!" Olaf suddenly snapped his fingers in the orphans' faces. He pointed to a doormat. "Wipe your feet! This place is gross enough to begin with, thank you."

"Dang, this place looks more like a shack than a crib," Mr. Poe observed.

Olaf nodded. "Yeah, I know. But…" He glanced at the children and smiled at them again, albeit in a more sinister way. "I hear you guys have a lot of money. We could use it to fix up my crib—er, house."

"No can do, homie," said Mr. Poe. "The cash can't be touched 'til four years from now."

Olaf glared at Mr. Poe, then picked him up and threw him out the window.

* * *

Author's Note: _Contrary to popular belief, I didn't have any sugar while writing this._

_Can someone help me with Mr. Poe's gangsta-speak? I don't know how to talk like a gangsta, so I'm having trouble making fun of it._


	3. I Guess We Should Get Cracking

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler. The song Olaf butchers on Day Four is "Say It Isn't So," which belongs to The Outfield._

Author's Note: _Before we start this chapter off, I'd like to thank my reviewers __**Harry's Girl 01031992 **__and __**heitone **__for giving me suggestions on Mr. Poe's "gangsta-speak," especially __**heitone**__. And for the record, I'm not actually trying to make Mr. Poe sound like a "real" gangsta. He's more of a wanna-be._

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**Chapter 3: I Guess We Should Get Cracking**

Mr. Poe seemed to be unaffected by being tossed out the window. He stood up, dusted himself off, and got into his car. Violet, Klaus, Sunny, and Olaf watched him as he drove away and eventually became a tiny black speck in the distance.

Olaf turned back to the children, grinned in a sinister manner again, and rubbed his hands together. "Now, children," he began, but he was interrupted by the smell of smoke. He looked down at his hands and realized that he'd created a small fire while rubbing them together. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he began to run around the room, screaming in a high-pitched voice and waving his burning hands in the air like he just didn't care. The Baudelaires stared at him quizzically.

"Do you think we should help him?" Klaus asked.

"No, this is funny. Let's watch," said Violet.

So they did. Five minutes later, Olaf finally jumped out his own window and ran across the street to the Fickle Fountain to douse the flames. Being the lazy count that he is, he climbed back in through the window after putting the fire out, instead of using the door.

"That was a close one!" he said, heaving a sigh of relief.

Sunny scooted closer to her siblings. "Reneep?" she whispered, which meant something along the lines of, "Do you think Mr. Poe made the right choice when he let this guy take us in?"

"Sunny, since when has Mr. Poe made the right choice?" Violet whispered back.

"A-_hem!_" Olaf coughed. The Baudelaires turned to look at him. Suddenly, the story rewound to the moment where Olaf was grinning sinisterly, but this time he was smart and didn't rub his hands together. "Now, children," he said again, "since you're going to be living with me, you have to follow all of my rules. And when Violet turns eighteen, I'll get your money, and YOU WILL BE STUCK IN MY EVIL CLUTCHES FOREVER!" He threw back his head and laughed evilly.

The Baudelaires blinked.

Crickets chirped.

Olaf stopped laughing, then glanced at the Baudelaires, who didn't seem to find his evil laugh very impressive. He sniffed disdainfully. "Fine, then!" he said. He pulled three thick stacks of paper out of his pocket and handed them over to the children. "These are your chores. I expect them all to be done today. If you have a problem with them, I'll lock you in your room. Oh, yeah, and these are the rules!" He pulled out one last scrap of paper and shoved it in the Baudelaires' faces.

Klaus squinted at the paper. "I can't read that," he said. "Your handwriting is illegible."

Olaf rolled his eyes. "Well, since you three are idiots and can't read my amazing scribbles, I'll just have to read them out loud to you," he snapped, snatching the paper back. He cleared his throat and began to read. "Rule number one: Do your chores. Rule number two: Don't go in my tower. Rule number three: Don't interfere with my evil plans. Rule number four: Don't ask me about my evil plans. Rule number five: Forget that I even mentioned evil plans in the first place. Rule number six: Do what I say. If I tell you to jump off the roof, do it. If I tell you to kill someone, do it. If I tell you to eat a spicy pepper that will set your mouth on fire, do it. And, yes, before you ask, you still have to listen to me when I'm drunk. And last but not least, rule number seven: Follow the rules."

"Isn't that kind of redundant?" Violet asked.

"SILENCE!" roared Olaf. He grabbed a pencil out of his pocket and scribbled something on the list. "And rule number eight: Don't question me. Now get to work!" Then he paused. "No, wait! Don't get to work yet! We're going to take a tour!" He grabbed Violet and Klaus by the arm and used his foot to move Sunny along. Needless to say, she was not amused.

Their first stop was the kitchen, and it didn't surprise the Baudelaires that it was just as messy as the living room. Empty wine bottles littered the floor, a group of buzzing flies hovered around a broken window, and most of the drawers were open. As usual, dirt and grime were everywhere, and there was a message written on the refrigerator in red marker.

"What does _that _say?" Klaus asked, gesturing to the aforementioned message.

Olaf looked at it. "Oh, that says 'I was here,'" he said. "One of my henchmen—er, one of my _associates _wrote that while in a drunken stupor. Or was that me? I can't remember."

"Akett," muttered Sunny, meaning something along the lines of, "Probably because you were drunk."

The next stop was the bathroom. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny pulled grotesque faces upon seeing the toilet, which was surrounded by a puddle of water. They couldn't tell whether it was regular water or urine, and they honestly didn't want to know. Violet cautiously opened a drawer and peered inside, then emitted a shriek and shut it when she spotted a cockroach.

Next up was Olaf's bedroom, which looked like someone's closet had exploded. Olaf's clothes were strewn about, and the Baudelaires kept finding articles of clothing in odd places. Violet found a shirt on top of an alarm clock, Klaus found a pair of pants stuffed inside a pillowcase, and Sunny found a lonely, sweaty sock in a garbage can.

"Where are you going to make _us _sleep?" asked Violet, staring around the room with a disgusted look.

"Hopefully we'll each get our own room," said Klaus.

"Wrong-o!" said Olaf, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation. "You all have to share a room."

The Baudelaires let out whiny, exaggerated groans, only to get chewed out by Olaf and dragged upstairs. Much to their dismay, their room was just like the rest of the house: little more than a shack. There was only one bed, which had a lumpy mattress; moldy, hideous, hot pink curtains hanging over the shattered glass of the windows; a cardboard box that had multiple messages written on it with a marker; a pile of rocks somewhere in a dark, dusty corner; and a bucket lying in the other corner.

"By the way, I wrote that," Olaf informed the orphans, pointing at the stuff written in red on the box. "It says 'hi.' The rest of it is just random gibberish."

The children glanced around the room. It didn't look very inviting, to say the least, and it certainly didn't feel like home.

"Um, Count Olaf, what's the purpose of that bucket?" asked Klaus, gesturing to the aforementioned object.

"Oh, that's where you go to the bathroom," said Olaf. He grinned. "Creative, right?"

"WHAT!" screamed Violet. "You're going to make us pee in a BUCKET?" She glanced across the keyboard at me, making puppy dog eyes and pouting. "Random, make him give us a proper bathroom!"

Sorry, Violet, but it's not called "A Series of Unfortunate Events" for nothing.

Sunny tugged on the sleeve of Violet's dress. "Shayat," she said, which meant something along the lines of, "You know, compared to the really gross bathroom downstairs, a bucket isn't so bad."

Violet mentally compared the downstairs bathroom and the bucket, then decided Sunny was right.

"Now that you've seen your room, it's time for your chores," Olaf said. He picked up the bucket and thrust it into Violet's hands. He then grabbed a washcloth from out of nowhere and thrust it into Klaus's hands. "Your first chore is to clean your toilet. Chop, chop!" Before the Baudelaires could protest, he ran out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

The trio looked at their respective piles of chore lists, which Olaf had given them earlier in the chapter. Sure enough, the first chore on everyone's list was to clean the toilet. Bucket. Whatever. Let's just call it the toilet-bucket. Remember Mr. Poe's crib-house? Yeah, it's kind of like that.

"This SUCKS!" Violet wailed, shaking her fist at the ceiling.

Klaus sighed. "Well, I guess we should get cracking."

They cleaned the toilet-bucket, and I got bored with this scene, so I decided that a lengthy montage of the Baudelaires' first week at Olaf's place was in order.

**Day One.**

_Dear Orphans: Girl with the ribbon, you will dust the roof. Dude who wears glasses, you will clean my cockroach-infested bathroom drawer. Baby with the freaky teeth, you will hunt down all the clothing lying around in my room and stuff it back in my closet. This stuff is already on your lists, but I'm leaving you a note just in case it didn't get through your thick skulls the first time. I'll be in my tower, practicing._

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another.

"I'd rather do your job," Klaus admitted. "It sounds way easier."

"Mishikial," Sunny said, which meant something like, "Works for me. I'll do your job. All I have to do is show these babies to the cockroaches, and they'll be running away crying like little girls." She flashed her teeth at her siblings for emphasis, but the sunlight streaming into the room reflected off of them and nearly blinded Violet. The eldest Baudelaire rubbed her eyes.

"What does he mean by 'practicing'?" she asked. Her brother and sister shrugged.

They found out later what Olaf meant by "practicing." Klaus was in Olaf's room, still putting away the count's clothes. Violet had finished the roof and was now scrubbing the couch in the living room. Sunny was using her teeth to intimidate the twenty or so cockroaches that were congregating in the bathroom.

"La, la, la, LAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Violet looked up from what she was doing. "What the heck was _that?_"

"Singing," Klaus called from somewhere down the hall. "I think."

Olaf's "singing" increased in volume and shattered whatever glass was left on the windows. A few moments later, Violet screamed and ducked behind the couch as a pack of cockroaches ran into the living room, letting out high-pitched squeals of fear. They ran out a small hole in the front door and never came back.

The Baudelaires didn't know what had really driven the cockroaches away: Sunny or Olaf's screeching.

**Day Two.**

_Dear Orphans: Ribbon girl scrubs the toilet, and unfortunately for you, I'm talking about the toilet in the actual bathroom. Four-eyes dusts my radio. Baby waters my plants. Oh, wait, those plants are dead. My mistake. But just do it anyway, because I said so, and I'm the coolest. Can't beat that, yo. Oh, crap, now I sound like that banker who thinks he's a gangster. Not cool. Okay, I'll shut up now. Bye._

Violet muttered something angrily and trudged off to the bathroom. Klaus shrugged, pulled out a feather duster, and proceeded to clean off the radio. Sunny was hungry, so she ate the dead plants instead of watering them. They definitely didn't taste as good as the snacks she had pulled out of her beard a few days ago. She was really starting to miss that beard.

"Pobeard?" she called to Klaus through one of the windows. She meant something like, "Hey, Klaus, do you think we can go see Mr. Poe so he can talk to us for a long time and we can get our beards back?"

"Why would you want to have a beard?" Klaus asked. "Beards don't look that good on babies."

"Notoka," said Sunny, who meant something like, "But my beard came with candy."

"Well, _my _beard came with a fax machine. Beat that."

Sunny was silent. Klaus was right. Nothing was cooler than your beard being equipped with a fax machine.

**Day Three.**

_Dear Orphans: Oldest girl, repaint the back porch. Boy, dust the front porch. Baby…well, I just discovered that I don't know how the heck a baby is supposed to do some of the things on that chore list, so I'm just going to make you eat a really spicy pepper. It's in my fridge._

Violet was happy. She liked painting, even though the thing she was supposed to be painting was an ugly old porch.

Klaus groaned. He was thoroughly sick of dusting. My mother and I feel your pain, buddy.

Sunny ate the spicy pepper with no problem. In fact, it wasn't even all that spicy. The poor pepper got a load of Sunny's teeth, and after that, it was never the same again.

**Day Four.**

_Dear Orphans: Kids, this is a special day. You get to take a break from your chores to hear me sing! Isn't that cool?_

"SAY IT ISN'T SOOOOOOO!" Olaf sang, horribly and off-key, from somewhere high up in the tower. "TELL ME I'M THE ONLY OOOOONNNNEEEE!"

More leftover glass on the windows broke, and the Baudelaires plugged their ears. Olaf stopped trying to sing psuedo-opera and decided to butcher—er, _improve _perfectly good songs. It was hard to say which was worse.

**Day Five.**

_Dear Orphans: I hope you liked your break yesterday, because it__'s the last break you'll be getting for a loooooong time. Violet wipes whatever glass is left on the windows. Klaus wipes the pee-pee off the bathroom floor. Sunny, sit and stare at a wall for a few hours. I bet I surprised you with the fact that I actually knew your names, huh? _

Violet stole Klaus's washcloth and started cleaning any glass she could find on the windows in the house. However, after Olaf sang some more, the last of the glass broke off and Violet was out of a job. She took Olaf's radio up to her room, turned it up loud, and started dancing. It should be noted that Violet was actually a pretty good dancer compared to Olaf.

"WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING?" Olaf screamed, glaring at me from his spit—I mean _sp__ot_ in the tower.

I'm implying that you suck at dancing. Now be quiet and let me finish this chapter.

Klaus was so sickened at the thought of having to mop up the urine on the floor that he promptly vomited. He had to clean that up, too.

Sunny ended up having a free day. Apparently rules don't apply to babies who can use their teeth as weapons.

**Day Six.**

_Dear Orphans: I'm running out of ideas, so bear with me. Violet, vacuum the living room. Did I spell that right? Well, actually, I don't care. Klaus, dust my bedroom. You're always dusting something, so why stop now? Sunny, go play with the rocks in your room. That's why they're there, anyway._

It turned out that Olaf didn't actually have a vacuum, so Violet ended up scooping all the crap off the ground into a dustpan.

Klaus gritted his teeth, then stomped off to Olaf's room to dust again.

Sunny bit the rocks. She declared them inadequate, threw them out the window, and hit somebody in the head.

**Day Seven.**

_Dear Orphans: My theater henchmen and I will be at a bar getting drunk and writing more stupid stuff on the walls with red markers. You guys make dinner for us before we get back._

The Baudelaires looked at one another in dismay. Normally, they would be happy about not having to read a long-winded note, but this note was too vague for their liking.

"What kind of dinner are we supposed to make?" Klaus asked.

"I only know how to make toast," Violet said.

"No, you only know how to _burn _toast," Klaus said with a grin. Violet glared daggers at him, and he shrank back.

"Netter," Sunny said, which meant something like, "We should go see that Strauss lady who lives next door. She asked us if we could hang out in her library, and we should take her up on her offer."

Violet and Klaus exchanged a glance, then nodded. They exited Olaf's house (they would _never _refer to it as "their new house" in a million years) and walked up the street to Justice Strauss's house. She opened the door immediately, although the Baudelaires never knocked or gave any sign that they had arrived.

"How did you know we were coming?" Violet asked.

"Count Olaf broke one of my windows with his voice," Justice Strauss explained. "I looked through the broken glass and saw you walking toward my house."

"Whoa!" Sunny exclaimed.

"Sunny's right," Klaus said. "I mean, we knew the guy was loud, but we didn't know he was _that _loud."

"So, I assume you've come to hang out with me in my library?" Justice Strauss asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, we need a cookbook," said Violet. "Our stinky, lazy guardian told us to cook dinner for him and his drunken groupies."

Justice Strauss gave the children a concerned look, but led them into her house. Unlike Olaf's place, which was messy all around, Justice Strauss's home was clean all around. It was a welcome change. When they got to the library, the children's eyes practically popped out of their heads. The library was about as big as the house they currently resided in, and most importantly, there was no dust, grime, or dirt.

Klaus dropped to his knees and started to worship the bookshelves. His sisters stepped past him and gave him weird looks as they searched for a cookbook. Finally, they found one and searched through it, giving one another suggestions from time to time.

"Cheese?" Sunny asked, which meant something along the lines of, "What about a heart-healthy omelet?"

"Oh, please. Olaf wouldn't _touch _anything that had the word 'healthy' in it," Violet said. "What about spaghetti?"

"Zing," Sunny said, which meant something like, "Nope. Knowing Olaf, he'd want something 'new and exciting.'"

Violet sighed and flipped through a few pages. A minute or so later, she peered curiously at a page, then asked, "What about pasta puttanesca? It says here that it's Italian for 'pasta that is roasted.'"

Sunny paused, thinking it over, and shrugged her small shoulders. "Okay," she said. She wasn't exactly sure how it was possible to roast pasta, but maybe her siblings would show her. She made a signal to Justice Strauss, who pulled out a pencil and quickly scrawled a bunch of ingredients on a scrap of paper.

Violet put away the cookbook, walked over to Klaus (who was still bowing down to the books), and dragged him off. Sunny crawled behind them. Before they left, Violet took the list of ingredients from Justice Strauss. She waved to the children as they departed.

Suddenly, an incomprehensible screeching sound came from Olaf's tower, and another one of Justice Strauss's windows cracked.

* * *

Author's Note: _Ugh. Forget what I said about the first chapter, this is easily the worst chapter yet. Some parts were okay, but I just didn't like it as much. I still hope you were somewhat entertained._


	4. Pasta That Is Roasted

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler. The right hand/Other Mother part is a reference to Coraline, which belongs to Neil Gaiman and LAIKA Studios. The Royal Ugly Dude part is a reference to Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, which belongs to Stephen Herek. The Blackfryer is mine._

Author's Note: _I read through the third chapter, and decided that it wasn't so bad after all. So far, I think that in terms of enjoyability, the third chapter is first, then the first, then the second. It's going to be really hard to top Chapter 3. But that's just my opinion._

* * *

**Chapter 4: Pasta That Is Roasted**

At this point I must interrupt the story to point out that I made a continuity error in the previous chapter. I said that Count Olaf and his troupe went to a bar to get drunk and write stupid messages on the walls. Then I said there was an incomprehensible screaming noise coming from Olaf's tower that broke Justice Strauss's window. Not to worry, I will fix this error. Let's just say Olaf snuck back into the tower while drunk.

The previously-mentioned drunken count stared blankly up at the paragraph, then scurried back to the bar carrying a marker and a bottle of wine.

Violet was in the midst of dragging Klaus off to a grocery store when she realized something. She and Sunny stopped in their tracks.

"Oh, crap! You know what we totally forgot about?" Violet asked.

"Nishilka?" Sunny asked, which meant something like, "No. What did we totally forget about?"

"The money!" Violet said. "That idiot Olaf didn't even leave us money to buy the ingredients!" She smacked herself in the forehead with her free hand and ran back to Justice Strauss, still pulling Klaus along. "Can we borrow some money?"

Before the judge could reply—

"Justice Strauss is a judge?" Violet asked, looking across the keyboard at me. "But she never told us that!"

"I'm a judge on the High Court," Justice Strauss confirmed. "I don't think Random found a good place to stick that little fact in, so she didn't reveal it."

Right you are. Now, as I was saying, before the judge could reply, a huge wad of money fell from the sky and Sunny caught it. The youngest Baudelaire was indifferent about the sudden appearance of the cash, but Violet's mouth fell open in surprise. Klaus didn't react to the money at all. He was still in a shocked state after seeing Justice Strauss's gigantic library, and he was lying face-down on the ground, his extremities twitching continuously.

"What's up with the…" Violet began, then trailed off and shook her head. "Never mind. Random does this kind of weird stuff all the time. Money falling from the sky is pretty normal compared to the other stuff that's happened in this story." She turned back to Justice Strauss. "Sorry for the author's weirdness—"

I HEARD THAT!

"Uh-oh," Sunny said, gripping the money as if it were about to grow legs and take off.

Thunder flashed in the sky and the sound of lightning filled the air. As punishment, I used my mighty author powers to turn Violet into a two-headed llama and back again. Just as quickly as they had come, the thunder and lightning mysteriously disappeared.

Violet shook with fear, visibly traumatized from briefly being turned into a two-headed llama by a nutty author. "Um, J-Justice Strauss, c-can you at least c-c-come w-with us to the s-store?" she stammered.

Justice Strauss looked fearfully at the sky, hoping that I wasn't going to be raining any more doom upon Violet or anyone else. "Sure. I like you guys, and I don't have anything else to do," she said. Then she pointed at Klaus. "But can you sedate him or something? He's kind of creeping me out."

"Trust me, I've dealt with him before. He'll be back to normal in a few minutes," Violet said.

"Avoop," Sunny said, most likely meaning something along the lines of, "I didn't know Klaus _could _be normal."

Uh, Sunny, you blind or somethin'? If you ask me, he's probably the most normal out of you three. Actually, wait a second…I'm talking about the guy who pulled a fax machine out of his beard and bragged about it. So you're the most normal.

Sunny beamed. No pun intended, I swear.

Actually, no, that's not right.

"The pun _was_ intended?" Justice Strauss asked.

No, that's not what I meant. Sunny's not really that normal, since she wanted to grow her beard back so she could get candy. So maybe Violet's the normal one…oh, who am I kidding? Violet understood gangsta-speak (well, sort of, anyway) and was _proud _of it, shot Mr. Poe in the head with a rock and dented it (his head, I mean, not the rock), tried to threaten me with a razor, got turned into a two-headed llama for about half a second, and breaks the fourth wall all the time. In fact, I think she's the one who talks to me the most. So none of the Baudelaires are normal.

Violet and Sunny glared at me. Klaus was still twitching on the ground. Violet bent down and slapped him across the face, and he stopped freaking out. He stood up and dusted himself off as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"If all I had to do was slap him, why didn't you let me do that earlier?" Violet asked.

Because…um, I don't know! Just because. So, what were we discussing again?

Everyone was silent.

Well, since we're no longer discussing whatever we were originally discussing, and we've gotten _way _off-topic, I say it's time to move on. Justice Strauss happened to know of a very conveniently located grocery store—

"Can I get a line in? I haven't said anything since I bowed down to Justice Strauss's bookshelves in the last chapter," Klaus said.

SHUT UP! Anyway, Justice Strauss happened to know of a very conveniently located grocery store, and she accompanied the trio of orphans to the aforementioned location. They took the list of ingredients with them, of course, and Sunny held the wad of cash protectively in her small hands. She may be an infant, but she had a death grip, let me tell you. However, Justice Strauss and the Baudelaires didn't get to the store before they were stopped by a street vendor.

"Psst," psst-ed the vendor. When the group looked his way, he shook a jar of olives at them. "Wanna buy some olives?"

Violet looked at the ingredient list. "Well, we do need olives for the puttanesca sauce," she said. "But how do you roast olives? Heck, how do you roast _anything _on this list?"

"We're roasting olives?" Klaus asked incredulously.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Pasta puttanesca is Italian for 'pasta that is roasted,' according to the cookbook. After we mix all the ingredients together to make sauce, we're going to put it on noodles and roast it. Got it?"

Klaus shrugged.

Sunny snatched the jar of olives from the vendor. She crawled away as quickly as she could, followed by her siblings and Justice Strauss.

"Hey, be careful with those!" the vendor yelled after them. "They change color! And they glow in the dark, too!"

The group didn't stop to listen to him and ran for the grocery store, which was in their midst. They bolted in through the doors, out of breath. Nobody stopped to give them weird looks, amazingly enough. The group decided to split up and look for clues—er, ingredients, and meet at the front of the store when they were done.

**Violet.**

Violet walked down an aisle that was full of frozen dinners and French fries. She scanned each shelf for noodles, making sure that she found one with the proper amount for fourteen people—Olaf's ten troupe members, the three Baudelaires, and Olaf himself. How did Violet know Olaf had ten troupe members? Well, I have no idea. She probably knew because I said it. Moving on.

She heaved a sigh of frustration and went into another aisle, having found nothing in the previous one. To her dismay, she didn't find anything in the next aisle either.

She went to a third aisle. Still, she found nothing.

She went to a fourth aisle. Still nothing.

She went to a fifth aisle. Nothing.

Sixth aisle. Nothing.

Seventh aisle. Nothing.

Eighth aisle. She found Klaus, who was looking for tomatoes.

"Hey, Violet, could you help me—"

"QUIET!" Violet roared, pointing a finger in her brother's face threateningly. "This is _my _portion of the chapter, not yours!"

She stomped into the ninth aisle, and there it was.

A package of frozen spaghetti noodles sitting on a shelf.

Choir voices started to sing "Hallelujah!" over and over again somewhere in the distance.

Violet grinned triumphantly and took the package off the shelf. She noticed many more packages of noodles that had been next to the package she'd taken, and grabbed two more packages. Then she thought it over and grabbed one more. Fourteen people were going to be eating this stuff, and you had to be prepared.

**Klaus.**

Klaus had no idea why Violet had screamed at him, but she was probably frustrated. Honestly, who wouldn't be after living under Count Olaf's roof for a week? He decided to let the matter drop and continued on his tomato hunt. Then he realized that tomatoes wouldn't be in a frozen food aisle—they'd be in the fruit and vegetable section, wherever the heck _that _was.

He walked out of the aisle and wandered around the store. He saw a bunch of shelves filled with bags of lettuce, and right next to it were some crates of fruit. Being a reader and a generally intelligent person, Klaus knew that tomatoes were actually fruits as opposed to vegetables, despite what some people thought. By the way, to the people who think (or used to think) that tomatoes are vegetables: I am NOT calling you stupid. Just wanted to get that out there.

"Did you have to apologize right in the middle of the paragraph?" Klaus asked me.

Yes, I did. I'm a very paranoid person.

Klaus rolled his eyes and picked some tomatoes out of a crate, putting them in a bag. After wandering around the store for a little while longer, he picked some garlic off a shelf.

It was then that he got a brilliant idea.

**Sunny.**

Sunny crawled around on the floor. She was kind of upset that Justice Strauss had taken the jar of olives and the money away from her, but then again, she _was _crawling. Getting the olives and money dirty simply wouldn't do. Besides, how was one supposed to crawl while carrying money and a jar?

She crawled around the store, looking for capers and anchovies, which she had promised to get. She had no idea whether those things came in packages, bags, or some other kind of holder, but she searched anyway. People looked down at her and wondered what a baby was doing in the store, all alone, but nobody approached her until she felt someone pick her up by the arm.

"Well, now," said a condescending voice, and Sunny looked into the dirty face of a strange man who looked like he hadn't been near a shower in years. His crooked grin showed a set of broken yellow teeth. "Whose baby are you? I don't see your mommy or your daddy." He laughed cruelly.

The man reminded Sunny heavily of Count Olaf, and while she wanted to get as far away from this freak as possible, she couldn't help but notice that he was holding a can of anchovies—one of the things she was looking for. She flashed her teeth at him, and they gleamed.

"Ernuki," she said in the most threatening, authoritative voice possible. She meant something along the lines of, "My parents are dead, you inconsiderate jerk. Hand over the anchovies and let me go, or you'll face the wrath of my teeth."

But she didn't have to save herself. Someone else did that for her.

"Hey, that's my sister, you idiot!" came the unmistakable voice of Violet Baudelaire, who punched the creep in the gut and took Sunny in her arms. Sunny snatched the man's anchovies as he keeled over in unimaginable pain. The Baudelaire women blew raspberries at him and fled the scene.

"I tell you, this place is like Freakshow Follies," Violet said.

"Toorit," Sunny agreed, meaning something like, "Definitely." Then she remembered something and pulled at the sleeve of Violet's dress.

Violet looked at her. "Yes?"

"Goroka?"

"Sure. We can go back and get capers."

**Justice Strauss.**

Justice Strauss was wandering throughout the store, holding a frying pan (Blackfryer!), the jar of olives and the money protectively. Sunny had not been too happy when the judge had taken the items from her, but Sunny was crawling and probably would have gotten the money and the olives dirty.

She was looking for a spit that the kids could roast the pasta on. She had gotten the frying pan (Blackfryer!) so they could put the pasta in it.

Suddenly, Justice Strauss looked up at the sentence floating above her head and noticed the weird word in parentheses. "What's a Blackfryer?" she asked me.

"Blackfryer" is my word for "frying pan." Now may we continue?

"Okay," the judge said agreeably, then went back to searching. With little trouble, she found the spit and was ready to join the Baudelaires. She was smart enough to get a shopping cart to put all of her things in.

The shopping montage abruptly ended and the four people met at the front of the store. Actually, the three females met. Klaus wasn't back yet.

"Where is he?" huffed Violet, who had deposited the noodles, anchovies, and capers into Justice Strauss's cart and was holding Sunny. "This is just like him. He always took so long to get his stuff when we went to the store with our parents."

"I'm right here!"

Violet, Sunny, and Justice Strauss turned to see Klaus, who was carrying a bag of tomatoes, some garlic, and several envelopes of pudding mix. Remember that brilliant idea I told you about earlier?

"Goodies?" Sunny asked, meaning something like, "You got pudding?"

"Yeah," Klaus said, dumping his stuff into the shopping cart. "I figured that if we made dessert, Count Olaf would be less harsh with us."

Violet shrugged. "Good point."

They paid for their things and went home, taking the shopping cart with them. Sunny kept a sharp eye out for the street vendor, just in case he tried to take the olives back. Eventually they reached Justice Strauss's house and saw that a few more windows were broken as a result of Olaf's singing, which could be heard all the way from the bar, wherever that was. But Olaf's voice could travel over very long distances, let me tell you.

"Thanks for coming to the store with us, Justice Strauss," Violet said. "Otherwise, Random might've, like, put a curse on me or something."

Curses don't work over the Internet. Fortunately for you.

"No problem," Justice Strauss replied. "You're probably the first smart people to come to this town in a long time. Almost everyone else here is a drooling idiot, if you don't mind my saying so."

The Baudelaires thought of Count Olaf and Mr. Pee—sorry, _Poe_, but at least it's a different misspelling—and agreed with the judge.

"Can we visit you tomorrow?" Klaus asked hopefully. He was eager to see the books again.

Justice Strauss sensed the aforementioned eagerness and twitched nervously. "Promise not to worship my bookshelves anymore?" she asked.

"I swear on my right hand," said Klaus, raising his right hand.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Okay, Other Mother, let's get back to the shack. We've got pasta to roast." She grabbed her brother by the scruff of his neck and dragged him off for the second time that day, carrying Sunny with her other hand. This prompted a worried look from Justice Strauss, but she pushed the shopping cart along and took it inside Olaf's house, then left the Baudelaires to their own devices.

"First we roast the garlic," Violet said, pulling the garlic out of the shopping cart.

"No, no, no," Klaus said, pulling out the tomatoes. "First we peel the tomatoes."

"No, we roast the garlic," Violet insisted.

"No, we peel the tomatoes," Klaus insisted.

"Roast the garlic."

"Peel the tomatoes."

"Roast the garlic!"

"Peel the tomatoes!"

"Roast the freakin' garlic!"

"Peel the freakin' tomatoes!"

"GARLIC!"

"TOMATOES!"

"RAGASHINGA!" roared Sunny, which meant something along the lines of, "Guys, shut the heck up! This argument's too stupid to be carried out in Caps Lock! And besides, you have to put the freakin' noodles in the freakin' frying pan before you do any of that other crap! Commit to the freakin' program! GOSH!"

Violet and klaus stared at their sister, completely dumbstruck by her impressive speech.

"Why is my name not capitalized?" klaus asked.

Well, because I made a speeling—I mean _spelling_—mistake while typing, and I thought it would be funny to keep it in there. Now, since this chapter was way too long, I fast-forwarded the story. In the span of about five seconds, the trio unloaded noodles into the Blackfryer, Violet roasted the freakin' gralic—garliv—jeez, I canNOT spell today! Violet roasted the GARLIC and washed the anchovies, Klaus peeled the freakin' tomatoes and pitted the olives (which started to change color and glow as he did so, true to the words of the street vendor), Sunny bashed the kitchen table qith—WITH a wooden spoon and occasionally tossed a few capers into the mixture, then the Baudelaires put the puttanesca sauce on the spit to roast it. After that, they made some chocolate pudding. After all that stuff was over and done with, the story suddenly began to move in real time again, and the front door was flung open so roughly that it fell off its hinges.

"Yo!" Count Olaf yelled. "Orphans! Where are you?" In the background, several drunken giggles were heard as well as various mutterings about headaches and hangovers.

"We're in the kitchen!" Klaus yelled back. He was relieved that his name was being capitalized again.

"You're not eating our food, are you?" Olaf barked, staggering half-drunkenly into the kitchen. Once he saw that the Baudelaires were nowhere near the dinner, he softened his tone by a hair. "I trust you made some excellent roast beef for my comrades and I. Am I right?"

Once again, the Baudelaires were struck dumb.

"Roast beef?" Violet asked in disbelief.

"It's the Swedish term for beef that is ROASTED," Olaf said threateningly, or at least as threateningly as a half-drunk person could.

"Well, we made pasta puttanesca," Violet said. "It's the Italian term for pasta that is ROASTED."

Hee hee. I _love _capitalizing random words, can't you tell?

"I don't want roasted PASTA!" Olaf whined. "I want roasted BEEF!"

"Hey, Oooooo-laaaaaf!" called someone who must really enjoy dragging out vowels. Ten people staggered into the kitchen: a hook-handed man, who shall be called Fernald; a chubby androgynous person, who shall be called the he-she; a bald man with a long nose, who shall be called Ted—

"But my name's not Ted!" protested the-bald-man-slash-Ted, cutting me off rather rudely.

Fine, then. Not-Ted it is.

"But—"

It's either that or Royal Ugly Dude. Take your pick.

"Oh, fine," Not-Ted sulked.

Thank you. Now, after Not-Ted came two women with white powder all over their faces. The first of this duo shall be called Tocuna, and the second shall be called Flo. After them came an important-looking person with warts all over his face, who shall be referred to as Wart Face, rather appropriately. Following Wart Face was a trio of very short men who shall be called Shorty the First, Shorty the Second, and Shorty the Third, and they shall be referred to collectively as the Shorties. Finally, there was the last member of Olaf's troupe, a woman with very short hair who shall be called Rope, because she controls the curtains at the play.

"What play?" Violet asked.

Oh, crap, I think I spoiled too much. Whatever. Eat your sucky dinner now, troupe!

"But roast beef is never sucky!" said Tocuna.

"These rip-off artists didn't even MAKE roasted beef," Olaf said, clearly in the same sulky mood as Not-Ted, but for a different reason. "They made roasted PASTA."

The troupe gasped.

"Orishie!" Sunny shrieked, which meant something along the lines of, "Too bad, it's all we have! Eat it!"

Violet translated for her.

"FINE!" snarled Olaf, and he and his troupe took their seats at the table, except for Not-Ted. He snapped out of his sulky mood and glanced at Violet, grinning slyly.

"Looks like Olaf has a way to get to the fortune now," he chuckled.

"Huh?!" Violet squeaked, alarmed.

Not-Ted only giggled in reply and skipped over to the table, taking a seat. As soon as he sat down, Olaf and his troupe started banging on the table, chanting, "Din-ner! Din-ner!"

So the Baudelaires came around and served everybody pasta puttanesca. Surprisingly, everybody dug in. Most likely, they just wanted something to eat. The Baudelaires sighed with relief until somebody spoke up.

"Hey! This isn't beef!" Not-Ted yelled. "Where's the beef?"

It's in Langley, Not-Ted. Now eat your not-beef.

Not-Ted grumbled something and continued to eat his not-beef.

"He always was the dense one of the group," Fernald whispered in my direction.

"HEY!" shouted a very insulted Not-Ted.

"Oh, shut up," growled Rope, and everybody shut up.

Somewhere by the kitchen counter, Violet and Klaus shoveled their portions of food into their mouths. Sunny didn't like it because it wasn't hard enough for her to bite, so she pushed her plate over to Violet. The eldest Baudelaire devoured it ravenously. While they ate, the Baudelaires eavesdropped on Olaf's conversations with the troupe, but they weren't discussing anything of interest. Later on, the troupe started pounding on the table again, so the Baudelaires got up and served everybody pudding. Violet was full from her dinner, so Klaus and Sunny ate the rest of the pudding.

When Olaf and the troupe were finished eating, the troupe got up and wandered out of the kitchen. Olaf turned and looked at the dirty dishes, then at the Baudelaires.

"You stay and clean while we're gone," he said. "When you're done, go straight to your beds."

"But there's only one bed!" Klaus said.

"Well, you guys are loaded, right?" Olaf said. "Go out and get another bed tomorrow."

"We're not even supposed to _think _about touching that money until Violet is eighteen," Klaus retorted, folding his arms.

Olaf slapped him across the face.

"Ow."

* * *

Author's Note: _Just so you know, I actually like Violet. She's just fun to mess around with._


	5. What Can You Tell Me About Treadstone?

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler. Treadstone and other Bourne-related things belong to Robert Ludlum and Universal Studios. The Cha Cha Slide belongs to DJ Casper._

* * *

**Chapter 5: What Can You Tell Me About Treadstone?**

Satisfied after slapping Klaus, Olaf followed his troupe out the doorway. He tried to slam the door shut, but he remembered that the door had fallen off its hinges. Klaus rubbed his sore cheek and glared at the space Olaf had once occupied. Violet and Sunny blinked and stared.

"This sucks," growled Klaus.

"_Olaf _sucks," said Violet.

"Suckage," said Sunny.

The Baudelaires agreed that their situation sucked majorly and Olaf was a royal jerk of the highest order, but they weren't feeling brave enough to defy Olaf by not cleaning the dishes. They cleaned up and went to bed soon afterwards. Luckily for them, they were sleeping soundly and didn't hear Olaf stumble drunkenly back into the house at one o'clock in the morning. He crashed into the refrigerator, fell down on his back, and went to sleep on the kitchen floor.

That was where they found him when they woke up.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Klaus said under his breath.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Violet said.

"Zob," Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of, "For someone who thinks we're worthless orphans, he's not much of a prize either."

Olaf mumbled something unintelligible. He sat up, stretched, and looked around. "Man, I have a really wicked hangover going on," he muttered. Then he pointed at the refrigerator. "Orphans! Chop some firewood for me!" He then stood up and limped upstairs to his tower. The Baudelaires heard a _thunk _above their heads as Olaf fell down again and started snoring.

"Weirdo," Sunny remarked.

"What was your first clue?" Violet asked.

So the Baudelaires went outside and got to work. There was a large pile of logs waiting for them in the front yard, which Olaf probably had arranged for a while now. Next to the logs were two axes and a twig. Sunny took the twig and promptly began to chew on it. Her older siblings picked up the axes and started splitting logs in two, discussing their situation as they worked.

"Obviously, we can't stay here anymore," Klaus said as he split his third log in half. "It's gross, the people are odd, and it smells like alcohol. And I found a leftover cockroach swimming in the toilet-bucket in our room last night."

"Ew, Klaus! I didn't need to know that!" Violet yelled.

"Sunny scared him with her teeth, and he jumped out the window. You were too busy sleeping to notice anything."

At the mention of her great accomplishment, Sunny smiled.

"Where do you think we should live?" Klaus asked.

"What do you mean?" Violet asked.

"You know, when we ditch this place. Where will we go?"

"We can't just ditch Olaf! He'd probably hunt us down."

Klaus rolled his eyes. "Violet, that man is in a drunken state about ninety percent of the time. Do you really think he would be able to come to his senses long enough to track us down if we ran away?"

"Esneson," Sunny said, which meant something like, "I didn't know Olaf _had _sense."

"That's the point I was trying to make," Klaus said, getting to work on a seventh log. "Olaf _doesn't_ have sense."

Violet was already on her tenth log, and she finished it off before striding over to an eleventh. "Should we hide over at Justice Strauss's place?" she asked. "She actually likes us."

"Yeah, but she never said she was gonna let us _live _with her," Klaus argued. "Liking us and letting us live with her are two different things, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Violet said irritably.

"I know you know."

"I _know_ you know that I know."

"I know you know that I know that you know."

"Huh?"

"What?"

Violet and Klaus exchanged a confused glance.

"I don't know what we're talking about anymore," Klaus said, then chopped his eighth log in half, turning his attention away from his sister.

"I didn't even know _who _was talking," Violet said. "Random stopped keeping track of who was saying what."

What can I say? I like confusing people.

"Well, I don't like being confused," Violet sulked.

I know you don't.

"I know you know that I don't! But you confuse me anyway!"

Well, _I _know you know…that I know that…uh, you know that I know that you don't, but I confuse you anyway…oh, you know what? I'm just gonna stop talking, because I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Plus, my brain hurts from trying to figure out all that junk.

"Figure out _what _junk?" Klaus asked, not really paying attention to me, but wanting to know the situation anyway.

Dude, don't even get me started, because I don't have a clue.

"Firagua!" Sunny yelled out suddenly. She meant something along the lines of, "Hey, people, are you listening? I have a solution to the 'we-have-to-ditch-Olaf' problem over here!"

"Really? What is it?" Klaus wanted to know, turning his full attention to the youngest Baudelaire and away from the curtains—er, the firewood.

"Poe!" Sunny exclaimed triumphantly.

Crickets chirped.

There was an awkward silence for a long moment.

"Mr. Poe?" Violet asked incredulously. "He's just as stupid as Olaf, if not more so! How would _he _help us?"

"Actually, it's not that bad of an idea," Klaus admitted. "If we told Mr. Poe how much we hated Olaf, he might take us out of here."

Violet shrugged.

Klaus shrugged.

Sunny grinned toothily. For once, someone was listening to her ideas.

So the Baudelaires finished chopping up the logs as quickly as they could and headed into town. They decided to check for Mr. Poe at Trustworthy Bank first, but he wasn't there. Next they went to Faithful Savings and Loan, but he wasn't there either. Their third stop was Subservient Financial Services, and a receptionist said that she knew Mr. Poe worked at Mulctuary Money Management.

"Hidowa?" Sunny asked, which meant something like, "How do we get there?"

Klaus translated for her.

The receptionist giggled. "Oh, I know how to get there! Don't worry!" she chirped. "First, you take a left down the street, then take a right down the next street, keep walking straight until you see a stop sign, turn left again, turn right, turn left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, up, down, all around, left, right, arrange a flight to Langley, stop at an ice cream store, walk past the supermarket, and you'll be there in no time!"

The Baudelaires stared at her like she was a being from outer space.

"Why Langley?" Violet asked.

"I have no idea. Tee hee!" said the receptionist. She took a sip of tea.

She's lying, you guys. Mulctuary Money Management is just down the street.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny went down the street and inside the Mulctuary Money Management building. Man, I am getting _tired _of typing that stupid name over and over again. When they got there, I realized something groundbreaking…I PASSED UP A CHANCE TO GO TO LANGLEY! THIS SUCKS!

"Why is everything about Langley?" Violet asked again.

Because I'm obsessed with Langley.

"Why are you obsessed with Langley?"

Because the CIA headquarters is in Langley. I'm obsessed with the CIA.

"Why are you obsessed with the—"

DON'T ASK QUESTIONS, FOOL! JUST GO TO MR. POE'S OFFICE!

"Random, are you PMSing?" Klaus asked, hiding behind Violet just in case I decided to doom him for whatever reason.

No. Maybe. I don't know. I can't tell. NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!

The Baudelaires inched away from me and darted into Mr. Poe's office as quickly as possible. Mr. Poe was still wearing his big gold medallion, but now he was dressed in what he called "gangsta swag," which consisted of a hoodie with dollar signs all over it and ripped jeans. Like I said before, he's a wanna-be. He doesn't know how real "gangstas" dress, and neither do I, nor do I care to find out.

"'Sup, homiez?" Mr. Poe said, because he was so cool that he replaced his S's with Z's whenever he felt like it. Before the Baudelaires could say anything, though, he started talking again. "I know this killa restaurant that's near this crib. Next time we could check it out. You dig? So, what do you gotta holler at me?"

Violet took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to phrase what she wanted to say, when she suddenly blurted out, "What can you tell me about Treadstone?"

"Treadstone's off the hook, yo! Black on black!" Mr. Poe made a random gang sign.

"Wait a second," Violet said, realizing what she'd just said. "What the heck is Treadstone?"

I giggled.

"Random, would you stop putting words in our mouths?" Klaus asked.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out three words—"I'm," "an," and "idiot"—as well as a pair of quotation marks and a single comma, then shoved it all into Klaus's mouth.

"I'm an idiot," Klaus said.

"Seriously, though, what's Treadstone?" Violet repeated.

I'd tell you…(shifty eyes)…but then I'd have to kill you.

Klaus came to his senses and whispered something in Violet's ear. Her eyes widened and she looked over the keyboard at me, her face twisted with the deadly combination of rage and exasperation.

"RAN-_DOM!_" she screamed at the top of her lungs, breaking Mr. Pow's—er, Poe's—window. "WHY ARE YOU STICKING BOURNE REFERENCES IN THIS STORY?"

Because I wanted to, okay? Look, if I promised not to mention anything else Bourne-related, would you be happier?

Violet sat down and smiled pleasantly. "Okay. Thank you." She turned back to Mr. Poe, who had taken no notice of the outburst and was now picking his nose out of boredom. "Our _real _question is, can you take us out of Count Olaf's place?"

Mr. Poe pulled out a big green booger and flicked it to the side. "Why do ya wanna get out of Olaf's crib?"

"Because Olaf's a jerkhole," Violet said. "He makes us do a bunch of stupid chores, and he's always walking around drunk, and he hit Klaus!" She motioned to Klaus, and he showed Mr. Poe the bruise on his face.

"Daaaang," said Mr. Poe. "That's one nasty motha of a bruise ya got goin' on there!"

"I know, right?" said Klaus. "Like I was telling Violet and Sunny this morning, we can't live—"

One of Mr. Poe's phones started ringing, and he picked it up. "Yo, Mister P's in the house!" he said. He paused as he listened to the person on the other line. "No. No. Yeah. Yeah. Sure, what the heck? Maybe. Yeah. Possibly. I dunno. Peace out!" He hung up and turned back to the children.

Klaus sighed. "Since Olaf hit me and such, we can't live with him anymore. Can you take us out of there?"

"Well…" Mr. Poe said, shifting uneasily in his chair. "Olaf's been takin' care of ya since your 'rents bit the dust, right?"

"Yeah…" Klaus said, not sure of what he was trying to say.

"So he's been actin' in what them Latin peeps call 'loco parentis,'" explained Mr. Poe.

"Nuts," Sunny said, which meant something like, "Yeah, he's loco all right."

"Isn't 'loco' a Spanish word?" asked Violet.

"It's Spanish for 'crazy,'" replied Klaus. "That would suit Olaf pretty well. Does 'loco parentis' mean 'crazy parents' or something?"

"I dunno," said Mr. Poe. "I just thought it sounded cool."

The Baudelaires facepalmed in unison.

"Plus, ya gotta give Olaf a chance to live up to the parentis thingy," Mr. Poe continued. Then he grinned. "Hey! I know what's gonna cheer you peeps up! How about ya feast your ears on my new rap song?"

"Oh, no!" Sunny exclaimed.

Mr. Poe pulled a boombox out from under his desk and pulled a CD out of a drawer. He set both things on his desk and took the CD out of its sleeve, then slid it into the slot in the boombox. Almost instantly, the sound of disc scratches and weird monkey noises emanated from the stereo and filled the room. The Baudelaires covered their ears, and somewhere in the distance, the sound barrier cracked.

"Mr. Poe! Mr. Poe! Mr. Poe! Mr. Poe!" you-know-who rapped on the CD. "I got a lady and two kids and a fat wad of cash! If ya wanna shave your beard, I got a razor stash!"

"I think he should have just stuck to The Cha Cha Slide," Klaus said.

"Should we get out now, while he's distracted?" Violet asked.

"Yeah."

Violet and Klaus stood up and ran out of the room. Sunny crawled after them quickly. Each of them were still covering their ears with their hands, and they didn't stop covering them until they got out of the building. Surprisingly, Mr. Poe's rap song could be heard outside, but at a much lower volume. A few minutes later, the music stopped as a phone began to ring.

"'Sup, Polly?" Mr. Poe said, obviously addressing his wife. There was a pause. "Whaddaya MEAN, Albert broke the barricades in his room?!"

The Baudelaires quickly snuck away from the building, trying to get far away so Mr. Poe's yelling would be out of earshot. When they got to a safer, quieter place, they began to assess their situation.

"What are our liabilities?" Klaus asked in a confidential whisper, his eyes shifting from side to side.

Speaking of eyes, Violet rolled hers. "Well, I was right. Mr. Poe didn't help at all," she said. "Seeing him was totally pointless."

"Anafo," Sunny said, which meant something like, "Hey, it was worth a shot."

"If you're so smart, what should we do, huh?" Klaus said, narrowing his eyes at Violet.

"I say we go to Justice Strauss's place," Violet said. "Even if we can't hide out over there, I want to visit."

So the Baudelaires walked all the way home and went to Justice Strauss's house. She greeted them warmly and allowed them to look at her books. Klaus almost fell to the floor and tried to worship the books again, but his sisters took turns slapping him so that he did no such thing. The orphans had a great time reading and talking to Justice Strauss, who got nicer with every visit, if such a thing was possible.

While everybody was distracted, I fled to Langley.

Or tried to, anyway.

* * *

Author's Note: _Sorry about indulging in so many of my obsessions in this chapter, but I just couldn't help it._

_For those who don't know, Treadstone is a top-secret government assassination program that exists within the Bourne series. _The Bourne Supremacy _was on TV not too long ago, and the title of this chapter is a line spoken in that movie. Plus, I kept getting this funny mental image of the Baudelaires asking Mr. Poe about Treadstone, so that's why it's in here. I promise to keep outside references (especially ones about Bourne) to a bare minimum as the story goes on._

_By the way, I am NOT mocking people who like rap music in this chapter. I am merely mocking the music itself._


	6. Be In The Play Or Else!

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler._

* * *

**Chapter 6: Be In The Play Or Else!**

In case you were wondering, I never actually made it to Langley. I mean, I tried to, but Justice Strauss and the Baudelaires stopped me before I could leave.

They were all like, "We need somebody to write the story!"

And I was all like, "But I wanna go to Langley!"

And they were like, "Story first, Langley second!"

And I was like, "Whatever."

So, yeah. I'm still stuck here. But I guess that's a good thing, because I don't actually know how to get to Langley. If I had been allowed to leave, I probably would have gotten lost right off the bat. Unless I convinced my parents to arrange a flight to Langley for me, of course…

"Oh, stop daydreaming about Langley and write already!" Violet snapped.

I used my author powers to turn Violet into a yak. Klaus, Sunny, and Justice Strauss stared at the Violet-yak curiously. The Violet-yak made an enraged noise and trotted out of Justice Strauss's house. Do yaks trot? Whatever. Klaus and Sunny followed their mutated sister out of the house and noticed that it was dark out. The trio managed to find their way back to Olaf's house, and the sound of snoring filled their ears instantly. The count was still dozing on the steps that led to his tower. The Baudelaires didn't know if he was still out cold from the alcohol, or if he was just lazy. Personally, I'd go with the latter. Suddenly, Olaf woke up and stretched. The Violet-yak trotted over to him.

"Hey, what _is _that _hideous _THING?!"

She made another noise and bit him.

"OOOUUUUCH!" Olaf shrieked in a high-pitched voice. He jumped up and ran up the stairs.

The Violet-yak smiled a very yak-like smile and trotted upstairs to the Baudelaires' bedroom.

"Random, can you turn Violet back into a yak—I mean, human?" asked Klaus, who had fumbled with his words for a moment.

When the time comes, I will restore her to her human form. Now go to bed.

Klaus and Sunny went upstairs.

While everybody was sleeping, I turned Violet back into a human. What can I say? I was feeling generous. The story fast-forwarded and it was daytime again. Violet shot up in bed, then began feeling her face with her hands, as opposed to her…yak…hand…things. What do they call yak hands? Anyway, Violet was ecstatic to discover that she was human again. Yay.

"Thanks, Random!" Violet said. "I promise to never, _ever _tick you off again. Really."

You won't even mock me when I daydream about my beloved Langley, which I've never actually been to in my entire life?

"Nope!"

Okay. Works for me.

"Sucker," Violet muttered.

I heard that.

"Crap!"

Look, Violet, I'm the author here. I'm gonna know about all of your secret mutterings. Heck, I'm the one who created those secret mutterings in the first place!

Violet muttered a muttering that I didn't bother to create, then she and her siblings went downstairs. Olsf—I mean Olad—I mean _Olaf_ was already there, pouring himself a glass of wine, which probably meant that more alcohol-induced stupidity on his part would be seen in the near future. But I was tired of the alcohol-induced stupidity. He liked it and the readers liked it, but it was getting old. So, with my author powers, I made the wine glass disappear.

"Hey! What's the big idea?" Olaf asked angrily.

The big idea is that I'm sick of you walking around like the drunken idiot that you are! Do something useful! Speaking of which, I believe this is the chapter where you start becoming useful. Dang. My timing's good.

The four people collectively rolled their eyes.

"Well, I have raspberry oatmeal for you guys," the count told the Baudelaires, indicating the bowls of oatmeal with a sweeping gesture. "Dig in!"

The Baudelaires sat down, looking at their respective bowls apprehensively. Sure, the raspberries looked good, but what if they had been poisoned? Or, worse yet, what if Olaf had accidentally poured alcohol on them? If the Baudelaires ate the oatmeal, they'd probably be staggering drunk within a few minutes. Hey, you know what that reminds me of? One of my friends told me that her dad accidentally poured beer on their cat, and the cat got drunk…

Olaf ignored my ramblings about drunken cats and picked a berry out of Sunny's bowl. He popped it into his mouth. "I love raspberries, don't you?" he asked, but his words sounded more like, "Mi luff maffmerries, ontoo?" because his mouth was full.

"Aragna," Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of, "Our parents said it was rude to talk with our mouths full."

Olaf swallowed the raspberry and looked at Sunny in wonder. "Are you speaking a _secret language?_" he asked. His eyes widened and he started jumping around like a giddy toddler. "Yay! I've always wanted to speak a secret language! Teach me!"

Oh, crap! Continuity error. Olaf has heard Sunny talk before.

"Yeah, but the first time, he was ignoring her, and the second time, he was half-drunk and probably doesn't remember hearing her," Klaus said. Did I use correct grammar in that sentence? Whatever.

Anyway, Olaf was trying to learn Sunny's "secret language." She thought the whole situation was terribly amusing, so she said random stuff and let Olaf try to guess what she was saying.

"Gooki," Sunny said. ("You're really stupid.")

"These are good raspberries!" Olaf guessed. The Baudelaires didn't try to correct him. Violet and Klaus decided to eat their oatmeal, and they would sometimes laugh at Olaf's attempts to understand Sunny.

"Zagura." ("I've had better conversations with dead earthworms.")

"Um…my feet stink?"

"Antidisestablishmentarianism."

Olaf's brain—or whatever was left of it—was fried. Blackfried, to be precise.

"Wow!" Violet said. "I didn't know Sunny knew big words like that! What does 'antidisestablishmentarianism' mean, anyway?"

Klaus took a deep breath before reciting the definition he'd committed to memory a long time ago. "Antidisestablishmentarianism is the doctrine or political position that opposes the withdrawal of state recognition of an established church; used especially concerning the Anglican Church in England. It is the opposite of disestablishmentarianism, which is the doctrine or political position that advocates abrogating the establishment of a church as the official state religion," he explained.

Olaf and Violet blinked and stared. They didn't understand. Frick, _I _didn't understand.

But Sunny understood. She's weird. She nodded at Klaus's definition, then dug into her raspberry oatmeal and got raspberries all over her face.

"I don't _like _secret languages anymore," Olaf said in a whiny voice. Then he stomped over to his refrigerator and opened it. "Where's my wine?"

I made it disappear, remember?

"Well, I want it back!"

I'll give it back when I feel like it.

"Fine!" snarled Olaf. Suddenly, he remembered something that he was going to tell the Baudelaires when they woke up. He turned to face them. "I got a call from Mr. Poe last night."

The Baudelaires froze. Their jaws were hanging open, and in Sunny's case, oatmeal was dribbling out of her mouth. They knew Mr. Poe talked a lot, but they thought he could at least keep a secret. Apparently not.

"What did he say?" Klaus asked.

"Well, he was _trying_ to say, 'The Baudelaires came to see me, and they are having a difficult time adjusting to their new life,'" Olaf said. "But if you want to get technical about it, he said, 'Yo, Olaf! The Baudelaire peeps come 'round to my hood, and they say you're being a hater! That's just not right, homie!'"

I burst out laughing. Mr. Poe's gangsta-speak was stupid, but it was hilarious. Everybody ignored my outburst and kept talking.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about how I've been behaving," Olaf said.

"So you're sorry about your horrible singing?" Violet asked hopefully.

"No! Are you joking?" Olaf asked. "I just meant that I was sorry about how I acted at dinner that one time! I'm not sorry about the singing! My singing is _awesome_, and you're jealous!" He stuck out his tongue.

"He's not gonna stick to this self-improvement thing for very long, is he?" Klaus said. Violet and Sunny shook their heads.

"Anyway," Olaf continued, "I've decided that I have been a bit standoffish." He turned to me and whispered in my direction. "Did I use that word in the right context?"

No. Aunt Josephine would be _so _ashamed.

"Who's Aunt Josephine?"

Nobody that _you _need to know about.

"Well, what the heck does 'standoffish' mean?"

Klaus, would you do the honors?

"Certainly." Klaus stood up and cleared his throat. "'Standoffish' means 'shy or distant in manner.'" He sat back down. "And let me tell you, Olaf has _not _been standoffish."

Well, another definition for "standoffish" is "not friendly," which _would_ suit Olaf pretty well…

"CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT WORDS?" screamed Violet.

Don't make me hurt you.

Violet remembered the Violet-Yak Incident, and decided to keep her mouth shut.

"Shising?" Sunny asked, which meant something along the lines of, "So, Olaf, what else do you have to say for yourself?"

Klaus translated.

Olaf grinned. "Well, now that you mention it, I was going to tell you guys about this play I'm going to be in," he said. "It's by me—er, I mean the playwright Al Funcoot, who is not related to me in any way. Nope. Not at all."

"What's it called?" Violet asked, slightly intrigued by the mention of a play.

"The working title was _Count Olaf's Big Dastardly Plot To Steal The Baudelaire Fortune_, but it was eventually changed to _The Marvelous Marriage_," Olaf explained.

"Sounds pretty innocuous to me," said Violet.

"Of course it does," said Olaf. "The play is about a brave, intelligent, handsome man, but unfortunately he is very poor. He loves a beautiful, young, _very _rich woman who returns his affections, but their friends and family won't let them be together. And at the end, they get married. Yep."

The Baudelaires just stared at him.

"So it's just about two people who get married?" Klaus asked. "That sounds like a pretty boring play."

Olaf ignored the comment, and pointed at Klaus and Sunny. "You two will be playing wedding guests," he said. "_I_, obviously, will be playing the brave, intelligent, handsome lead character." He struck a pose.

"Lame," Sunny said, rolling her eyes.

"What about me?" Violet inquired. Then her eyes lit up as she got an idea. "Ooh, I know! Can I help build the set? Design the background or something?"

Olaf stared at her quizzically, then laughed. "No way, José!" he said. Who's this José guy, anyway? Why is _he _so special? "You, Violet, are going to play my bride!"

There was a long, awkward silence for a long, awkward moment.

"Excuse me," Violet said, then she ran outside.

"What's she doing?" Klaus wondered.

"Nif," said Sunny, which meant, "Beats me."

Suddenly, the sound of throwing up filled their ears. It lasted for quite a while and, for a moment, Klaus, Sunny, and Olaf felt like going outside and throwing up as well. _I'm_ feeling sick just typing this. But after a little while, Violet came back inside.

"Um, Count Olaf, I don't think I want to be in the play…" she said nervously, ready to run for her life if the count decided to get violent. Luckily, Olaf did not hit her, but he put his face close to hers and narrowed his eyes.

"BE IN THE PLAY OR ELSE!" he bellowed.

Violet meeped. "Okay…um…when's the performance?"

"This Friday night," Olaf said, all perky. "It's the only performance we will give." He turned on his heel and headed towards the stairs to his tower, forgetting that his wine was still missing. As soon as he was out of earshot, the Baudelaires began to talk amongst themselves.

"That man is definitely up to something," Klaus said.

"Seriously, though, when _isn't_ he up to something?" asked Violet. "But I guess being in a play wouldn't hurt _too _much…" She scooped up her siblings' oatmeal bowls, as well as her own, and started washing them. However, that did no good, because the bowls just got grime on them from the contaminated water. Frustrated, Violet dropped the bowls in the sink and went back to the table.

"What do you mean, it wouldn't hurt?" asked Klaus incredulously. "Obviously, he's trying to steal our fortune. Remember when he was describing your role? He emphasized the 'very rich' part."

"Yeah, but how would he be able to get our fortune by marrying me in a play?" Violet argued.

"Book!" exclaimed Sunny, which meant something like, "Let's go to Justice Strauss's house! She probably has a book that can help us."

"Great idea, Sunny!" said Klaus. He stood up on the table, thrust out his chest, and put a serious expression on his face. "TO THE DOMAIN OF KNOWLEDGE!" he declared, jumping off the table and flapping his arms. He was trying to fly like a superhero, but he ended up falling on the floor. His sisters stared at him.

"The Domain of Knowledge?" Violet asked dryly.

"Er…I meant Justice Strauss's library."

* * *

Author's Note: _The definitions for antidisestablishmentarianism, disestablishmentarianism, and standoffish were stolen from FanFiction(.)Net's dictionary. I can't believe I actually spelled those words right._

_Sorry for the short, boring chapter._

_Oh, and the drunken cat story _is_ real. Kinda weird, but real. _


	7. Operation Research Is Set In Motion

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler. The Dagger Stare of Doom belongs to me. Microsoft Word, which is briefly mentioned in this chapter, belongs to the Microsoft corporation. Macbeth, which is also mentioned briefly, belongs to William Shakespeare._

Author's Note: _Sorry for the late update, but I've been feeling kind of tired and sick lately, and a lot has been going on. Plus, the Document Manager has been down._

_By the way, to __**kamikaze2007**__: my life actually isn't all that interesting. My friend is the owner of the drunken cat, not me. She told me the story about her cat, and that's how I know about it. I just wanted to clear that up._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Operation Research Is Set In Motion**

Klaus was mesmerized.

"Ooh! Look at all the books!" he said joyously, clapping his hands and pointing at the books on Justice Strauss's bookshelves. "Look at their spines! They're all different colors! PRETTY COLORS!" He did a little dance.

"Honestly, Klaus, you're acting like you've never seen a library before," Violet said, picking a law book off a shelf. The book was thick, heavy, and enormous, and she couldn't even use two hands to hold it. She lost her balance and fell to the floor. The book tipped over and fell on top of her, making her as flat as a pancake. She let out muffled screams and flailed about, but Klaus was still entranced by the bookshelves and Sunny had crawled off in search of Justice Strauss.

When Sunny returned, clinging to Justice Strauss's arm with her teeth, Justice Strauss took one look at Violet and gasped. She ran over and used both hands to push the book up. Violet hastily crawled out of the way, and the book fell down again.

"Violet, why were you messing around with that law book?" Justice Strauss asked. "Everyone knows those are, like, the most egregiously boring books in the universe. I mean, I'm a judge, and _I _don't like those stupid things. That's how crappy they are."

"Well, you see," Klaus began, snapping out of his book-induced trance, "my sisters and I came over because Count Olaf asked us to be in a play, and we think he's up to something—OW!"

Of course, Count Olaf was not up to something ow. Klaus just said that because Violet elbowed him sharply in the gut. Justice Strauss didn't hear the last part about Olaf being up to something, and she immediately got stars in her eyes. Literally, I mean. Her pupils changed into little yellow stars, and she got a dreamy look on her face.

"You're going to be in the play, too?" she asked excitedly. She giggled like a schoolgirl and twirled happily around the library. She swung her arms out and Sunny went flying into a pile of books in the corner. "So am I! This is so awesome!"

"Who are you going to play?" Violet asked.

"I'm going to be the judge who presides over the wedding!" Justice Strauss said. "Weird coincidence, huh?"

"Oston," Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of, "I don't think it's a coincidence." She crawled away from the pile of books and sat by Violet and Justice Strauss.

"Who are you going to be?" Justice Strauss asked.

"Sunny and I are going to play wedding guests," Klaus said. He was leafing through a considerably smaller law book.

Violet turned pale. "And I'm…playing the…bride." Her cheeks bulged out, and she ran outside and threw up again.

"Does she have stage fright?" Justice Strauss wondered.

"Count Olaf's playing the groom," said Klaus.

Justice Strauss looked confused for a moment, then a lightbulb went off in her head. Her star-shaped pupils abruptly became circles again, since she had snapped out of her dreamy state. "Oh, I get it. You know, I actually sympathize with Violet. I wouldn't want to marry that guy, even in a play." She shuddered, then smiled. "Would either of you like to help me with the gardening?"

Klaus was about to speak, but Violet came back inside and spoke first. "Klaus and I are going to stay in here," she said, elbowing her brother again so he wouldn't protest. "We think these law books are interesting. We want to have careers in law someday."

"Quano," Sunny said, which meant, "Well, _I _would rather help with the gardening. There's no way I'm going to look through a boring law book."

"That's the spirit!" said Justice Strauss, who had no idea what Sunny meant, but correctly assumed that she wanted to assist with the gardening. She picked Sunny up and carried her outside. Violet and Klaus were still in the library.

"How come I can't help with the garden?" Klaus asked.

"Have you already forgotten what we need to do?" Violet hissed. "You were the one who thought Olaf was up to something!"

"Oh, right," Klaus said. "How come our characterizations aren't consistent in this parody?"

"Don't ask me," Violet said. She looked pointedly at me.

Well, you see, it's rather hard to keep people's characterizations consistent in a parody. Plus, that's not what this story is about.

"You make a good point," said Klaus. He nudged Violet. "Hey, you know what we should do?"

"What?"

"We should make up an operation name!"

Actually, Klaus, I think the proper term is "codename"…or is it "code name," with the two words separated? I've never been sure about that.

Violet ignored me and just stared at her brother.

There was a long silence.

"An operation name?" Violet asked. "Why do we need one?"

I cleared my throat.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Oh, let me guess. Random said so?"

"No," Klaus said quickly. "I just want one."

"Whatever," Violet said, shrugging. "What do you think we should call our…operation?"

Klaus started to giggle insanely. "Oh, I have a great one!" he said. "Wait for it…" He jumped on top of a nearby coffee table, grinned from ear to ear, and said, "Operation _Research_."

Violet snorted. "That's the best you can come up with? Sounds pretty boring."

"You got any _better _ideas?" Klaus asked. He crossed his arms and gave his sister the Dagger Stare of Doom. That's right. It was such an intimidating, scary stare that it deserved to be capitalized. In fact, it was so scary that it could perform the astounding feat of frightening Violet Baudelaire into submission. She blinked, shivered, and shrank back.

"No, I can't say that I do," she muttered.

"I thought so," Klaus said with a grin. Then he punched his fist into the air. "And we're set! Operation Research is set in motion!"

Now that her sibling wasn't using the power of the Dagger Stare of Doom against her, Violet calmed down and she picked a book off one of the shelves. Fortunately, it was much smaller than the huge law book she had battled earlier, but unfortunately, it was scarcely bigger than her hand. Meanwhile, Klaus picked a good-sized book off another shelf. His book wasn't too big or too small. Violet groaned.

"Why do I always pick books that are weird sizes?" she asked no one in particular.

As if on cue, Klaus took another good-sized book and tossed it at her. She caught it with one hand and put the small book back.

So Violet and Klaus read their books. Like Justice Strauss said, law books are egregiously boring, so the reading session took them quite a while. Every few minutes, one of them (usually Violet) would have to look something up in a dictionary. You see, law books are not only boring, they are also full of hard words that barely anybody knows, which contributes to their boringness. (And that's a real word, too! The thesaurus on Microsoft Word said so!) I've never actually read a law book before, though, so I'm just going to take Mr. Snicket's word for it. To make a long story short, Operation Research wasn't going so great.

After a few hours of researching, the two Baudelaires finally stopped to tell each other what they had found.

"Fifty years ago," Violet said, flipping through her book to find the exact page, "the director of a large corporation died and left all his money _and _his job to his pet roosters."

"Who in their right mind leaves money and a job to a bunch of roosters?" Klaus asked incredulously.

"Heck if I know, I just read about it," Violet replied, looking at the page that contained the particular story. "Anyway, his subordinates were terribly jealous, and they tried to kill the roosters so the job would go to one of them, and the money would be divided among everyone. But it looks like the guy was pretty smart."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Well, the guy's subordinates tried to kill the roosters by poisoning their food, but the guy never told them what the roosters ate. The subordinates gave the roosters the wrong food, so they didn't touch it."

"What did the roosters eat?"

"Phones."

Klaus stared at her. "Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Violet. "It says it right here in print—'Kramer's associates were unaware that the roosters would only eat phones, and their plot was foiled.'"

"Wow," said Klaus. "What happened to them? The guy's colleagues, I mean."

"It doesn't say," Violet informed him. "The story stops there."

"Do you think Count Olaf is going to kill us by poisoning our food?" Klaus inquired.

"I don't think so. If that was his plan, he would have poisoned those raspberries, and making us be in a play would be pointless. What did you find?"

Klaus opened his book and leafed through it until he came to his own page. "Around the time of your rooster guy," he began, "there was a group of people who performed a stage version of Shakespeare's _Macbeth_—and everybody was naked."

"EW, KLAUS!" shrieked Violet. "Now I'm gonna get nasty visuals!"

"Well, _you_ asked me what I found!"

"Well, I didn't know you were reading about naked people!"

"Oh, calm down," Klaus said. "They were only naked for a few minutes. The police came and stopped the play."

"Good for the police," muttered Violet. "I wouldn't want a bunch of naked people putting on a play, either." Then a startling realization came to her, and she screamed. "HOLY CRAP! KLAUS! WHAT IF OLAF WANTS US TO GET NAKED ONSTAGE?! Ewwww! He's even creepier than I thought!" She made a face.

"Violet, how would making us go naked in the play help Olaf get our fortune?" asked Klaus.

"I…don't know," Violet admitted. "Still, why were you reading about naked people?"

Klaus shrugged. "I just thought it was interesting."

"Sicko."

"What did you call me?"

"Nothing."

Both Baudelaires sighed.

Violet put her book away. "I'm tired," she said. "Operation Research has been fun, Klaus, but I'm gonna go help Justice Strauss and Sunny with the gardening." She walked out of the library and went outside, leaving her brother alone.

Klaus just stared after her, open-mouthed and blinking. He couldn't believe she was giving up on Operation Research.

"Hey, you!" a voice yelled. Fernald, Count Olaf's hook-handed pal, stepped into the room. He walked over to Klaus and looked at the book he was holding. "_A Book That Will Not Help You Defeat Any Evil Counts Under Any Circumstances_ by I.M. Board? Why are you reading that?"

Klaus continued to stare into space.

"Kid, I asked you a question," Fernald said sternly. He almost snapped his fingers, but he remembered that he didn't have any fingers to snap, so he settled for clanging his hooks together.

Klaus continued to stare.

Fernald whacked him in the head with his left hook.

"Ouch!" Klaus cried out, rubbing his forehead. "Why does everybody slap _me?_"

"Just because," Fernald said with a shrug. Then he gave Klaus a menacing look. "Count Olaf sent me to get you. Now, that book"—here, he gestured to the book in Klaus's hands—"doesn't look like something you should be reading."

"Why? Because it talks about naked people?" Klaus asked.

Fernald paled slightly. "Er, no," he said. "Uh, I mean yes! I mean…well, you shouldn't be reading books about naked people anyway. Why were you reading about that?"

"There was a story about a bunch of naked people who put on a play and got arrested," Klaus explained. "They don't show pictures or anything, if that's what you were worried about." He shuddered. "Olaf won't make us go naked in the play, will he?"

"No," said Fernald. He went back to being menacing, and he put a hook close to Klaus's face. "But Olaf doesn't want you getting big ideas about that play. Got stage fright? Can't remember where you stand? Want to stop an evil plot? Too bad. The show must go on. Now, where are your sisters?"

"In the garden," Klaus said, too scared to move.

With a final sneer, Fernald went outside. Klaus breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes roamed around the room and something caught his attention. The wheels in his mind started to turn, and he grabbed the object of interest and stuffed it inside his shirt. He then walked outside and saw Fernald pulling Violet along by her hair. Sunny dangled from his arm, biting into it. Justice Strauss was hiding in the bushes, paralyzed with fear.

Klaus parted the bushes and looked at her. "What happened to you?" he asked.

"The hook-handed man," said Justice Strauss, her eyes wide. "He gave me the Dagger Stare of Doom."

"I feel your pain," said Klaus. "That stare's pretty scary." He left the frightened judge in the bushes and walked back to Olaf's house, ahead of Fernald, Violet, and Sunny. He hoped that the book he was smuggling would be able to help him.

"What's that rectangular lump in your stomach?" Fernald asked.

Klaus paled. "Um…I accidentally swallowed a book?"

"Okay, that's believable. Don't worry, you'll pass it through eventually."

Violet and Sunny rolled their eyes.


	8. I Still Have My Pants

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler._

Author's Note: _In response to __**Spymaster E**__'s question "Where and what is Langley?": Langley is an unincorporated community that is located in Virginia._

* * *

**Chapter 8: I Still Have My Pants**

Klaus was sitting upright in bed, but his eyes were closed, and his head was bowed low. His book hadn't been opened yet. So, of course, I decided to get the story (if you could call it that) back on track.

Psst! Klaus! We have a story to get on with! Could you wake up?

He snored in reply.

This wasn't going anywhere. Thinking quickly, I started typing and an air horn blast suddenly filled the air. Klaus jerked awake and looked from side to side, wondering where the noise had come from.

Oh, good, you're up! Now be a dear and start reading that book. You stole it for a reason, did you not?

"But—"

DO IT NOW!!

Klaus was intimidated by the use of two exclamation points as opposed to one, so he promptly opened the book and started reading. You see, back when the Baudelaire parents were still alive, Klaus used to spend all day and all night reading books. He and I have quite a lot in common, actually. We both have dark hair, we both wear glasses, and we both love to read. Kind of creepy, isn't it? Anyway, Klaus was very engrossed in the book. He only stopped reading it a few times to take a dump in the toilet-bucket and clean said toilet-bucket with a soapy sponge that was lying under the bed. He did this quietly and made sure not to wake his sisters, especially Violet, who had claimed the bed and would have bitten her brother's head off had he awakened her. Finally, after a few more minutes of reading, Klaus shut the book.

"I'm done!" he announced proudly.

Wow. That took quite a while.

"Tell me about it. I never knew it took that long to read a table of contents!"

Yeah, it _does_ take a long time to—wait, _what? _TABLE OF CONTENTS?! You only read the _TABLE OF CONTENTS?!_

"Well…yeah," Klaus said, embarrassed. "I tried reading the actual book, but it was too hard! _You _try reading a book with a bunch of legal terms and whatnot!"

C'mon, you wimp! You've read harder books than _that! _Just give it a try! There's an evil count trying to steal your fortune, and that's a whole lot scarier than a thick book with legal terms in it. Plus, we're getting off topic, so how about trying that book?

"_You're _one to talk about getting off topic! You're the girl who rambles about movies and the CIA all day long when she's supposed to be writing a story!"

Oh, so _that's_ how you want to play, huh? Well, _you're_ the boy who read about naked people when he was supposed to be researching inheritance law! Being a pervert is a _lot_ worse than being a CIA enthusiast or a movie buff!

"I AM NOT A PERVERT!"

Sure, just keep telling yourself that.

"_Argh!_" Klaus growled. "Now I know why Violet hates you."

I _do _seem to have that effect on people, don't I? Well, enough talk. Start reading something other than the table of contents, Klaus. Chop, chop!

Klaus was about to protest, but I interrupted him by typing this sentence. He had no choice but to read the book. Grumbling under his breath, he opened the book again and read way past the table of contents. I kept a close eye on him the entire time and made sure he read the whole book, in all its thick, heavy, riddled-with-legal-terms glory. He read until the sun came up, and at that point, he felt woozy from lack of sleep, but at least he had read the book. Don't you feel better now that all of that reading is over and done with, Klaus?

"Sort of," Klaus said, shrugging.

Eh, good enough. Go downstairs. You have a big day ahead of you.

Klaus stood up and staggered around the bedroom. He fell against the wall, collapsed in a heap on the floor, and went to sleep. Being the generous person I am, I let him sleep for a little while. When he was well-rested, he stood up again and went downstairs to the kitchen. Olaf wasn't there, which wasn't exactly unusual. Klaus decided to wait.

A few minutes later, Olaf exited his tower and came downstairs as well. Surprisingly, he wasn't walking around drunkenly, but he poured himself a glass of wine. He noticed Klaus sitting across from him and glared. "What are _you _looking at?" he snarled.

Klaus slammed his book on the kitchen table. "I spent all night looking at _that_," he said, pointing at the aforementioned book. He smirked at the count. "It's called _Nuptial Law_. And thanks to that book, I know what you're up to. You're exposed!"

"Exposed?" Olaf repeated. He looked downward. "No, I'm not. I still have my pants."

Klaus blinked, glancing quizzically at Olaf. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "I meant that I exposed your big, dastardly plot to steal the Baudelaire fortune!"

"Oh, so _that's _what you meant," Olaf said. "So, what is this big, dastardly plot that you speak of?"

Klaus flipped through _Nuptial Law_ until he found the right page. He showed it to Olaf. "It's right here," he said, pointing to a particular paragraph and beginning to read from the selection. "'In this community, the laws of marriage are simple. Just make sure you and your spouse say "I do" in the presence of a judge, and make sure the bride signs the document with her own hand, and there you have it! So easy that an evil count and an innocent orphan girl could do it!' Justice Strauss is a judge, and if Violet says 'I do' and signs a document in her own hand while Justice Strauss is present, your marriage to her will be legal!" He snapped the book shut. "_That _is your plan. Or it would be, but my sisters and I are going to show it to Mr. Poe, and you'll get busted!" He stuck out his tongue.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say," Olaf mumbled. He snatched the book from Klaus and flipped through it until he found the page again. "'With her own hand'? What kind of idiot wrote this? Who else's hand would she write with?"

"Hey!" Klaus yelled. "Dude, didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Of course I did," Olaf said. "I was just making an observation about the book."

Klaus folded his arms. "If you heard me, then what did I say?"

Olaf's eyes widened. He realized that he really _hadn't _heard anything Klaus said. "Um…um…uh…" he stammered. "Something about judges? Legal stuff? Mr. Poe?"

Klaus facepalmed. "Look, I'm just going to go tell my sisters what I learned, okay?" he said, and without waiting for a reply, he turned and went back upstairs. Violet was just getting up, and she was yawning and stretching.

"Hey, Violet, I have to tell you something about the play," Klaus said.

"What is it?" Violet asked. She turned pale. "Olaf's going to make us go naked, isn't he?"

"No, he isn't, thank God," Klaus assured her. "But his real plan is just as gross, if not more so. He's planning to marry you for real. When you get married, he'll have control of our fortune."

Violet snorted. "How is that possible?"

Klaus held up _Nuptial Law_. "This book says that when two people get married, they're entitled to any money that either spouse has," he said. "The bride and the groom have to say 'I do' in front of a judge, which is where Justice Strauss comes in. Plus, the bride has to sign the document in her own hand."

"Well, obviously," Violet said, rolling her eyes. "But I'm fourteen. I can't get married."

"I once heard that an eight-year-old girl got married," Klaus said. "And the book says that girls under eighteen can get married if they have the permission of their legal guardian. Guess who that is?"

Violet's face became white as realization dawned on her. She stared into space.

"Violet?" Klaus said worriedly.

She made a gagging noise in her throat.

Klaus pushed the toilet-bucket over to her.

She vomited into it.

Klaus took the toilet-bucket from her with a grimace and put it back in its corner.

"Hey, Klaus, can I ask you something?" Violet inquired, wiping her mouth.

"Sure," he said.

"Can you take my place?"

His eyes bugged clear out of his head. "Can I _what?_"

"Take my place," Violet repeated. "You know, dress up as me and marry Olaf? Olaf's an actor, and knowing how weird he is, he probably has some women's clothing lying around. Or we could switch clothes…"

"That's disgusting!" Klaus shouted. "I mean, him marrying you is one thing, but him marrying _me?!_"

"Well, _I _don't want to marry Olaf!" Violet said.

"Well, what difference is it going to make if he marries me instead of you? He's still going to get our fortune."

"It's gonna make a _lot _of difference! I won't have to wake up to his ugly mug every morning."

"But _I_ will!"

As Violet and Klaus argued back and forth, Olaf made his way up the stairs. He knocked on the door, and both siblings stopped fighting for a moment to look at him.

"I finally figured out what Klaus told me!" the count said. "He said that if Violet says 'I do' in the presence of Justice Strauss, then my marriage to Violet will be legal. And then I figured out that if my marriage to Violet is legal, I'll be in control of the Baudelaire fortune! Isn't that cool?" He beamed.

The two Baudelaire siblings just stared at him for a moment.

"That's nice, Olaf," said Violet, who turned back to Klaus. "Okay, if you don't want to switch places with me, how about we get Sunny to do it?"

"No way. That's even more disgusting than your other suggestion," Klaus said. Then he paused, thinking about his baby sister for the first time. "Where is Sunny, anyway?"

"She's…" Violet paused. "She's in that pile of curtains, isn't she?" She gestured toward the hot pink curtains, which had been torn down and used to create a makeshift bed for Sunny. Have I mentioned that at all in this story? Eh, never mind.

Olaf smiled in an insincere, truly evil manner. "Oh, I _highly_ doubt that."

DUN DUN DUN.

"Shut up, Random. You're killing the moment."

Oops. Sorry about that.


	9. Your Ten Seconds Are Up

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler._

Author's Note: _In response to __**Radioactive Nerd**__: don't worry, I've been planning a parody of _The Reptile Room _ever since I started writing this story. I'm going to do parodies of all thirteen books._

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**Chapter 9: Your Ten Seconds Are Up**

Violet gaped and looked across the keyboard at me, giving me the Dagger Stare of Doom. "You apologize to Olaf when you do stuff to him, but you don't apologize to _me?_" she griped incredulously.

Hey, all Olaf has done this entire story is walk around in a drunken, stupid state. He deserves ten seconds of evil glory.

"That's right!" Olaf said, sticking his tongue out at Violet.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! Okay, Olaf, your ten seconds are up.

"But—"

Look, when I say ten seconds, I mean ten seconds. Your moment of evil glory is officially over. That's just how it goes…oh, _CRAP!_

"What _now?_" Violet asked.

I have the strangest feeling that I just made a continuity error. In the sixth chapter, Olaf said that _The Marvelous Marriage _was originally called _Count Olaf's Big Dastardly Plot To Steal The Baudelaire Fortune_, but last chapter, Olaf didn't get the idea for his big, dastardly plot until Klaus said something. How do I get myself out of THAT pickle?

"Um…say that Olaf was generating ideas, but he didn't have a really good one until I confronted him," Klaus suggested.

That works. Where were we? Ah, I remember. Olaf's ten-second moment of evil glory was over. Olaf was particularly miffed about that, but his _true _moment of evil glory was just around the corner! He continued to smile evilly at the two remaining Baudelaires. "So your sister has disappeared," he said. He suddenly frowned, and pulled out a copy of _Villain-Speak For Dummies_, which had helped him along throughout the story. "Er…hang on for a sec, I can't find the section on what to say when a small, helpless baby is in your clutches…oh, here it is. 'When trying to threaten the older siblings of the baby, say "I'm very sorry to hear that" in an insincere, but not blatantly villainous tone.'" He shoved the book back into his pocket and looked back at Violet and Klaus.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," he said in an insincere, but not blatantly villainous tone.

Violet and Klaus just gawked at him.

Olaf began to feel self-conscious. "Do I need to work on my performance?" he asked.

"I think you just reached a brand-new level of pathetic," Klaus said.

"Are you sure he wasn't at that level already?" Violet said.

Olaf shot them a glare, then peeked at his book again. "Want to see something very strange and scary?" he asked in the creepy tone of voice that he'd perfected over time.

Violet and Klaus looked at him.

The count rolled his eyes. "Not _me!_" he said. "I'm flattered that you think of me as strange and scary—"

"But mostly strange," Klaus cut in.

"Shut up!" hissed Olaf. He sighed. "Let's just go out to the backyard."

Under normal circumstances, Violet and Klaus wouldn't have followed that strange freaky man anywhere. However, since they wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery of Sunny's sudden disappearance, they followed Olaf downstairs and out of the house. They tripped over scraggly weeds and ran into a Venus flytrap that snapped at them. When they got into the backyard, Violet and Klaus saw that Olaf had rearranged the pile of logs so that they would spell out his name. The logs had also been painted for some reason.

"Uh, Count Olaf, why are the logs green?" Klaus asked.

"I like the color green," Olaf said. "It's the color of money!" The mere thought of money made Olaf giddy, and he started doing a little victory dance around the backyard. His dance was cut short when he started spinning out of control and smacked into the tower. He rubbed his sore head and glared up at the tower, but he saw something that made him grin again. "Come over here, Baudelaires!"

Violet and Klaus stepped cautiously over to where Olaf was, carefully avoiding some gopher holes in the ground. They looked straight up.

"Hey, look! There's a full moon tonight!" Klaus said.

"I see a helicopter!" Violet said. The aforementioned helicopter flew by, and the two Baudelaires waved at it.

"You're looking in the wrong place!" Olaf said. "Look a little more to the right."

They looked to the right.

"What kind of birds are those?" Violet asked, squinting.

"I might be able to tell you," Klaus said. "Can you tell what they look like?"

"Well, they're kind of—"

"You're _still _looking in the wrong place!" Olaf interrupted testily. "Look a little more to the center."

They turned their heads a bit and kept their gaze centered.

Violet noticed the strange and scary something first. "OH MY GOSH!" she screamed. "IT'S A BIRDCAGE!"

Klaus noticed it, too. "OH MY GOSH!" he screamed. "SUNNY'S IN THAT BIRDCAGE!"

"Finally!" Olaf said.

Hanging from the tower window was a birdcage with Sunny Baudelaire in it. Violet and Klaus looked closer and saw that there was a piece of red tape around her mouth and ropes around her body. They saw her mouth move, and suddenly, the red tape fell off.

"Neeka!" she shrieked, which meant, "I can talk through tape! Take that!"

Hey, you know what that reminds me of? One time when my dad was in third grade, he talked a lot, and so his teacher put a piece of tape over his mouth, and my dad talked through the tape and the tape fell off…

While I ranted about my dad's educational experiences, Violet and Klaus turned around and gave Olaf the Dagger Stare of Doom.

"You let her go, or I swear I'll pour all your wine down the toilet!" Violet yelled.

"Yeah, and then we'll hit you in the head with the empty bottles!" Klaus yelled.

I suddenly stopped my rant.

Um, guys, I noticed another continuity error-type thing…

The two Baudelaires rolled their eyes. They were struck by lightning thanks to my author powers, and after that, they were ready to listen.

Well, you know how Olaf didn't get the idea for his big dastardly plot until last chapter? It doesn't make sense how he knew to lock Sunny up when he didn't even have a plan!

"Like you said earlier, I was generating ideas," said Olaf. "Tormenting Sunny was the first part of my plan. Well, actually, it was Not-Ted's idea. You know, my bald lackey? So he snuck in and stole Sunny while Violet and Klaus were sleeping."

Okay. Thanks for the clarification.

"Not-Ted locked Sunny up?" Klaus asked.

"He must have been the one making all that racket last night!" Violet said.

We will now momentarily pause this story for…THE FLASHBACK THAT NOBODY ASKED FOR! I'm so excited!

**Flashback.**

Violet was sleeping in the lumpy bed, Klaus and I were arguing about him reading _Nuptial Law_, and Sunny was sleeping peacefully in her little pile of curtains. All was well, more or less.

Suddenly, the door opened and Not-Ted walked in. By that time, Klaus had decided to shut his trap and read the book, which he promptly became engrossed in. Violet was too busy trying to get comfortable to notice. Sunny was lost in a deep sleep. Not-Ted smiled to himself. This was going to be so easy! Boy, was he wrong.

The first sign that things were going wrong was when he stepped on a creaky part of the floor. Violet stirred and turned over. Not-Ted froze in place for a moment, then made his way carefully across the room. The floor continued to creak and squeak.

Now, that bedroom was very dark. Don't ask me how Klaus could see his book in the dark, because I don't know. Anyway, the room was dark, and Not-Ted had no clue which direction he was going. He tripped over the toilet-bucket and fell to the floor. The toilet-bucket wiggled back and forth a bit, and some water spilled out (ew, just typing that sounds so gross…), but it didn't tip over. Not-Ted tried to get up and banged his head against the wall on accident. Ignoring the headache that was forming at the base of his skull, he tried to stand up again. This time, he was successful.

Not-Ted turned in what he assumed was the right direction, then walked that way and smashed into a wall. He turned the other way and promptly hit the cardboard box that was in the middle of the room. He swerved to avoid it and headed toward a corner, then tripped over the pile of rocks and fell flat on his face.

"Olaf needs to put lanterns in here or something!" he said to nobody in particular. He got on his knees and crawled along the ground. His hands searched around until they felt fabric. He eventually picked Sunny up and exited the room, glad that the whole ordeal was over.

**End flashback.**

"I could barely sleep because of that guy!" Violet groused.

"I didn't hear anything," Klaus said.

"That's because you were reading," Violet said.

Olaf yawned. "Now that we've established the fact that Not-Ted kidnapped Sunny and makes too much noise…"

Violet punched him in the gut.

"OW!" the count cried out in pain. "You hit hard!"

"There's a lot more where that came from!" Violet snarled. "When we're finished with Daniels—er, I mean, when we're finished with _you_"—here she glared at me for putting words in her mouth again—"we'll hunt down Not-Ted and give him the beating of his life! Unless, of course, you promise to let Sunny go. Let her go, or we'll make good on our promise!"

"Yeah, what she said!" Klaus agreed.

"Why, certainly," Olaf said with a grin. He fished around in his junk-filled pockets, pulled out a walkie-talkie, and pressed a button. "Let her go!"

The birdcage started dropping rapidly to the ground.

"Harivi!" Sunny screamed, which meant, "Bad choice of words, Violet!"

"NOOOOOOOO!" Violet and Klaus wailed dramatically.

"Oh, fine," Olaf said. He spoke into the walkie-talkie again. "Stop that cage!"

The birdcage paused.

Sunny let out a sigh of relief.

"You guys always ruin my fun, you know that?" Olaf grouched.

Violet ignored him and nudged Klaus. "Look at how close the birdcage is to the ground," she said, pointing at it. "If we just walk over there while Olaf and his lackeys aren't around, we could rescue Sunny!"

Someone pulled the birdcage up high again, so it was out of reach.

"There goes your great idea," Klaus muttered.

"Speaking of great ideas," said Olaf, who had heard Klaus, "I have one." He knelt down in front of Violet, pulled a box out of his pocket, and opened it. He held it out to her. "Violet Baudelaire, will you marry me in the play?"

"That's a mood ring," Violet said, peering into the box.

"It was the only ring I could find," Olaf said sheepishly. "So, will you marry me, mood rings and all?"

"NO!" Violet objected.

Olaf pulled out the walkie-talkie. "Hey, Fernald, feel free to loosen your hold on that rope…"

"NO!" Violet shouted again.

Olaf shoved the walkie-talkie back into his pocket and crossed his arms. "There you have it," he said. "Marry me, or your sister bites the dust. Take your pick."

"Wait!" Klaus said. "What if…what if _I _took Violet's place?" He cringed as he said it.

Violet looked at him with a grateful smile.

Olaf looked at him like he was insane. "Are you kidding? Who would want to marry _you?_" he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he turned back to Violet. "Well?"

Violet gulped. "Well…I guess…I'll do it," she said. She hung her head in shame.

Olaf smirked and went back into the house.

Tears welled up in Klaus's eyes and his lower lip quivered. He summed up the situation with four words.

"We are so _screwed!_"

* * *

Author's Note: _The story about my dad and the tape is also true. He told me about it one day._


	10. Trial And Error

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler. I don't know who owns Vespa, but it's not me._

* * *

**Chapter 10: Trial And Error**

Klaus's words echoed all over town. People opened their windows and looked around for the person who had shouted about being screwed, but they couldn't find him, so they went back inside.

Meanwhile, something inside Violet snapped. She was sick and tired of the situation they were in, and she was sick and tired of Klaus's whining, and she was sick and tired of me writing about how sick and tired she was. She went over to Klaus and slapped him across the face.

"Not _again_," he whined, for this was the third time he'd been slapped by somebody.

"You just _shut up_, okay?!" Violet screamed. "You were the one who thought up Operation Research! You were the one who read that big book! Heck, you even tried to take my place so I could be saved!"

And he picked the yacht as a strike point!

"SHUT UP, RANDOM!!!" Violet roared, using the mighty power of three exclamation points in a row. She turned back to Klaus. "The point is, you shouldn't be the one whining about how screwed we are! _I _should be the one whining about how screwed we are! You should be trying to use your big brain to save us!" She conked Klaus on the head with her fist.

"Ouch!" said Klaus. "I'm never going to be able to use my big brain if you keep hitting me, you know! I might get brain damage!"

Yeah, Violet, you might dain-bramage your brother. If you want help from him and his big brain, you gotta stop punching him in the head.

Just then, Violet got a brilliant idea. "I know!" she said. "Random, you're the author! Quick, make up a happy ending for us!"

I can't.

"Why _not?_" Violet groaned, sticking her hands on her hips and glaring at me.

Well, first of all, I have three more chapters to write (not counting this one). Second of all, if I post a short chapter, that probably wouldn't go over so well with the readers. Third of all, said readers would probably lose interest if I made a happy ending, and it would seem like a cheap copout anyway. Fourth of all, if I made a happy ending for _this _story, then I probably wouldn't be able to do any of the sequels.

"Multi?" Sunny asked from her cage. She meant something like, "Wait, there's gonna be a sequel to this story? _Multiple _sequels? Sequels with an S?"

Of course! You didn't think I'd just make the first one and be done, did you?

"I was _hoping_ for that!" Violet said. "Then maybe you'd leave me alone!"

Face it. There's not a good chance of me leaving you alone, even if I _wasn't_ going to continue the series. You're just too fun to pick on.

"What about me?" Klaus asked.

You and I are much too alike for me to want to annoy you. Plus, I already annoyed you pretty well in the eighth chapter. I don't think I could top that.

Klaus breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hippa?" asked Sunny, which meant something along the lines of, "Are you sure you don't want to write a happy ending for us?"

Well…okay, okay! Since I'm feeling really kind and generous today, I'll go ahead and give you guys a happy ending.

There was a loud roar that sounded suspiciously like a motorbike, and Justice Strauss burst through the bushes on a Vespa. "Hey, kids!" she said, waving at the Baudelaires. "Hop on! I've come to rescue you!"

"Yay!" the Baudelaires cheered.

The birdcage dropped to the ground, and Violet unlatched it. Luckily, Sunny was unharmed. Violet picked her up and the three Baudelaires hopped on the Vespa, sitting behind Justice Strauss. She gave them each a helmet (Sunny's helmet was too big for her head, and she looked really silly in it). Then she started the Vespa up and the four people rode off into the sunset (never mind the fact that it was early morning) as bright, beautiful flowers sprouted up around them and fireworks were set off in the sky.

THE END!

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

Just kidding.

Oh, come _on_, people! You really thought I was going to end it like that? Not only was that ending unlikely, it was corny! Flowers and fireworks? Justice Strauss on a Vespa? Yeah, _right!_

Violet was _mad_. Her whole face was purple with rage and steam was coming out of her ears in a comical fashion. She pointed at me and screamed, with as many typefaces and exclamation points as she could: _**"YOU SUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"**_

Okay, I'll admit that was a little cruel on my part, but you're _totally_ overreacting.

**_"OVERREACTING? OVERREACTING?! I'LL SHOW YOU OVERREACTING!!!!!!"_** Violet shrieked.

That's what you're doing now. You're showing me how you overreact.

**_"I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!!!!!"_** Violet yelled. She pulled a pair of scissors out of her pocket and charged at me, but I was ready! I clapped my hands twice and Violet was struck by lightning. Then a tidal wave came and drenched her. Then she was beaten with sticks by a group of screaming lunatics who had escaped from a mental institution. Then she was attacked by a rabid squirrel. Then she got hit in the head with a flying keyboard. Then a tornado came, sucked her up, swirled her around for a bit, then whisked her away to, uh, Berlin. Then it brought her back and spat her out. Then she got run over by a goat. I clapped my hands again and Violet was okay.

Klaus and Sunny (who was still in her cage) watched the whole scene with mild interest and ate popcorn.

So, Violet, what do you have to say for yourself?

**_"UM…I THINK I'LL BE GOOD NOW,"_** Violet said.

I thought you might say that. Now, how about getting rid of the Caps Lock, the bold, the italics, and the underline?

**_"OKAY,"_** Violet said. Then she realized her mistake. "I mean…okay."

Good girl. Don't worry, readers, we will now return to your regularly scheduled chapter…

Olaf opened the door, which he had forced the Baudelaires to fix a little while ago. He was armed with a megaphone. "ALL ORPHANS WHO ARE NOT CAGED UP, GET INSIDE THE HOUSE AND START DOING CHORES!" he shouted.

Violet and Klaus sighed and went back into the house. Olaf stole Klaus's popcorn.

For the rest of the day, neither of the two remaining Baudelaires said a word as they did their chores. Olaf was rather pleased. It meant that he could practice singing without interruptions. Since his windows no longer had glass on them, he broke the glass on his neighbors' windows with his voice. Between songs, Olaf would also snack on the popcorn in a loud, annoying fashion. Violet and Klaus didn't know what was worse: Olaf's singing or Olaf noisily chowing down on popcorn.

Violet had gotten a plan and had been going over it in her head throughout the day. When night fell, she grabbed the hot pink curtains and left the bedroom while Klaus slept soundly in the bed (how he managed to sleep peacefully on such a lumpy mattress, I'll never know). She went downstairs and stood at the foot of the tower stairs. Olaf's androgynous lackey was standing guard.

"Hello, sir…ma'am…whatever you are," Violet said as politely as she could. "Um, could I take these curtains to Sunny?"

The he-she narrowed its eyes at her. "What are you going to do with them?" it asked in a voice that sounded like it could come from a male.

"Holy crap!" Violet exclaimed. "You can talk?"

"Of course I can talk," the he-she said, this time in a voice that sounded like it could come from a female. "What are you going to do with those curtains, kid?"

"I just thought they would make Sunny more comfortable," Violet said.

"Well, too bad!" the he-she sneered in the man-voice. "You can't see her. Olaf said so. Go back to your room!"

Violet groaned inwardly and stomped upstairs to the bedroom. She put the curtains down and looked around the room for supplies. Why did she need supplies? Because she was going to make an invention, of course! She spotted a purple curtain rod on the wall (which the curtains had hung from until recently) and noticed that a bunch of wire hangers were strewn about on the floor. The children's clothes were lying in a heap in the cardboard box, and since the Baudelaires hadn't known what do to with the hangers, they just threw them on the floor.

Violet grinned to herself and took the rod down. She broke it into two pieces (I haven't the faintest idea how she did that, but this _is_ a parody) and bent it at sharp angles. Then she took a few wire hangers and did something with them, then she tied everything together with a piece of wire and made something else out of the ugly curtains and some of the equally ugly clothing the children possessed, and voila! She had a grappling hook!

"You're _horrible _at describing things," Violet said.

At least I gave it a shot. Anyway, the grappling hook was about thirty feet long, and Violet's plan was to climb up the tower and rescue Sunny. She just hoped she didn't wake Olaf or any of his partners-in-crime. Making sure Klaus was asleep, she quietly stepped out of the bedroom and went downstairs.

Once she was outside, Violet squinted at the sky. She could see Sunny dangling from the window, and she suddenly remembered something her mother told her when the youngest Baudelaire was born.

**Violet's flashback.**

Mrs. Baudelaire held Sunny in her arms and stared at Violet firmly. "Now, Violet, you are the eldest Baudelaire child," she said. "As the eldest, it is important that you order your siblings around. Show them who's boss! And if they try to undermine your authority, you have my permission to ground them. Also, you can go to parties and get as drunk and wild as possible."

"YAY!" Violet cheered.

**End of Violet's flashback.**

"Ah, good times!" Violet said, smiling and letting herself get lost in the memory.

Violet, you know perfectly well that your mother did NOT tell you that.

"Yes, she _did!_"

No, she didn't. Here's the REAL flashback, folks.

**The REAL flashback.**

Mrs. Baudelaire held Sunny in her arms and stared at Violet firmly. "Now, Violet, you are the eldest Baudelaire child," she said. "As the eldest, it is important that you take care of your siblings and make sure they don't get hurt."

"Sure, whatever," Violet said, examining her nails with great interest.

**End of the REAL flashback.**

THAT is what happened.

"Man, you're such a buzzkill!" Violet complained. "These flashbacks aren't gonna become a regular thing, are they?"

It all depends on if they're needed. Now save Sunny and honor your mother's wishes, or I might actually kill you off this time.

Violet turned pale and gulped at the thought. Keeping herself motivated with the memory of her mother and her worry over my death threat, she threw the grappling hook.

_CLANG!!! _The hook didn't stick and fell to the ground. Violet was disappointed. She knew it was a matter of trial and error, but she was sure that an invention as good as her grappling hook would have worked the first time!

"Fione!" said Sunny, which meant, "Fire one!"

Hearing Sunny's voice somewhat reassured Violet. With a newfound confidence, she threw the grappling hook again.

_CLANG!! _The hook still wasn't sticking and it fell down again, but it used one less exclamation point than before. That was a good sign.

"Fitwo!" said Sunny.

Violet threw the hook yet again, gritting her teeth a bit as she did so.

_CLANG! _The hook only used one exclamation point this time, but it still came crashing down. It hit Violet in the shoulder, and she screamed in pain.

"Fithree!" said Sunny.

Violet tried to ignore her hurt shoulder and threw the hook for the fourth time.

_CLANG?_ This time the hook used a question mark.

"Fifour!"

Violet threw it.

_CLANG._ This time the hook used a period.

"Fifive!"

Violet threw it.

_CLANG_

"Fisix!"

Violet waited for the punctuation, but it never came. She smiled, despite her weariness and her throbbing shoulder, and threw the hook again.

_CLAN_

"Fiseven!"

Now the hook was leaving out letters. This was definitely a good sign. Violet threw the hook again.

_CLA_

"Fieight!"

Violet threw it.

_CL_

"Finine!"

Violet threw it.

_C_

"Fiten!"

Violet threw it.

The hook didn't make a sound.

"Fileventa!" Sunny cheered. She meant something along the lines of, "Fire eleven! And we have a WINNER!"

Violet yanked on the rope, and nothing happened. No letters, no punctuation, no sound, no nothing. Her invention had worked! She grinned to herself and started climbing. She ran her hands up the rope and walked up the side of the tower. The wind blew in her face, but she told herself not to get distracted. If she did, she might fall, and all her hard work would go to waste. Although she got queasy at times and felt like she was going to vomit, she continued her climb, and she finally made it to the top.

"Hi, Sunny!" she said, holding on to the metal part to keep herself up.

"Vipum," Sunny said worriedly, which meant something like, "Uh, Violet, you might want to look to the right."

Violet looked to the right, and her eyes widened in fear when she saw what her hook had latched onto. Her hook had been caught on another hook, and she didn't have to be very smart to figure out who that other hook belonged to.

Fernald held out a bucket of popcorn that he'd stolen from Sunny. "Want some?"

* * *

Author's Note: _That chapter was hard to parody. I hope I did a decent job._


	11. I'm Not His Bride To Be

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler._

Author's Note: _In response to __**bscfangrl8**__: as I pointed out in a previous chapter, I actually DO like Violet. I think she's just really fun to pick on, for some reason._

* * *

**Chapter 11: I****'****m Not His Bride-To-Be**

Violet stared at Fernald in complete and utter horror.

She kept staring.

And staring.

And staring.

And _staring_.

Fernald rolled his eyes. "Look, if you don't claim the popcorn now, I'm gonna eat the rest of it," he said.

"How can you hold onto a bucket of popcorn when you have hooks for hands?" Violet asked incredulously.

"Take it up with Random," said Fernald. "Now, do you want the popcorn or not? Last chance."

"No, no popcorn," Violet muttered, still staring. Then she remembered what had been going on prior to the popcorn offer, and she tried to climb back down, but Fernald was too quick. He put his hook through the neck of her shirt and pulled her through the window. After taking the grappling hook off of his own hook, he threw it over the edge. It smacked against the tower on its way down and made all sorts of clanging noises. Fernald put Violet in a chair and let go of her. She started to shake and shiver.

"What's going to happen?" she asked.

The question caught Fernald off guard. "You know, I haven't the faintest idea," he said. "Olaf never lets any of us know what his plans are until the time comes to carry them out."

"So I'm going to be sitting here without a clue as to what Olaf's going to do to me?" Violet asked. She snorted. "Sounds like a lot of fun."

"Corpa?" Sunny asked.

"What did the baby say?" Fernald asked.

"She wants her popcorn back," Violet said.

"Well, it's mine!" Fernald said, clutching the bucket of popcorn to his chest protectively. He stuck his tongue out at Sunny, who bared her teeth. The teeth gleamed in the moonlight, and the hook-handed man shivered. He regained his composure and glared at her, then pulled out a walkie-talkie and pressed a button.

"It's me, Olaf," he said. He groaned and rolled his eyes again. "Don't pull that 'who is this?' stuff on me, okay? It was funny the first time, then it just got old." There was a pause. "I'm bothering you because your bride-to-be—"

"I'm _not _his bride-to-be," Violet said, spitting out the word like it was a contaminated liquid.

"Your _bride-to-be_," Fernald repeated with a grin, just to make her angry, "tried to rescue the scary baby." Pause. "It was some kind of rope or something. I don't really know." Pause. "Yeah, I know. I know, okay? I've heard this rant a hundred times before. Are you sure that _Villain-Speak For Dummies _book is helping you?" There was garbled screaming on the other line. Fernald chuckled. "Okay, okay, settle down. I was just kidding. Okay. Yes. Bye." He disconnected the line and looked at Violet. "Count Olaf isn't too happy with his _bride-to-be_."

"STOP THAT!" Violet screamed.

Fernald started to giggle uncontrollably. "Now—" He giggled. "I—" Giggle. "Am going—" Giggle. "To fetch—" Giggle. "Your brother!" He ran out of the room, still giggling. As he went downstairs, Violet and Sunny could hear the giggles turn into loud hysterical laughter. He thought that his "bride-to-be" thing was absolutely hilarious.

"What an idiot," Violet muttered.

"Aree!" Sunny said, which meant, "I know, right? And he wouldn't even give my popcorn back to me!"

Violet looked around the room and saw some things that were dear to Count Olaf. On a table, there was the list of rules that Olaf had read from when the Baudelaires had first arrived. There was a scrap of paper that said "Things I'm Going To Do When I Steal The Baudelaire Fortune," which was written in what Olaf had called his "amazing scribbles." Next to the table, there was an open trunk full of disguises. All over the floor, there were a bunch of wine bottles and a ripped, beat-up box of markers. Random messages had been scribbled all over the wall and even the ceiling, much of it illegible gibberish. A boombox sat in a corner.

A little while later, Fernald (who was _still _giggling) came back into the tower room, dragging a sleepy Klaus along. He put the tired boy in a chair next to Violet. "Stay up here—" Giggle. "Until Olaf—" Giggle. "Is ready—" Giggle. "To perform!" He went back downstairs, doing a little jig. When the door slammed shut, Klaus jerked awake.

"What—what happened?" he asked, looking around the room. "Is this a dream?"

"No, it's real," Violet said.

"Verku?" Sunny asked, which meant something along the lines of, "What should we do now?"

Violet smiled and took her hand. "Don't worry, Sunny," she said. "We'll make it. Everything's going to be—"

Hold on! Hold _on!_ This chapter's getting _way_ too serious for my taste. It started out fine, then suddenly it went downhill! What's up with that? And the chapter title isn't even that good!

"Who picked the chapter title?" Klaus asked.

Uh…I did. But that's not the point! The point is, this chapter isn't that funny. In fact, it's basically just a filler chapter until the real action begins. Why is there an eleventh chapter, anyway? Do we really need it?

"Violet and I need to discuss sabotaging the play," Klaus said.

Well, that's a semi-decent excuse for an eleventh chapter, but still, it's just filler.

"If it's filler, why do you still insist on writing it?" Violet asked.

Number one, I like to write. Number two, because I can. Number three, because I want to have the same amount of chapters as the original book. Number four, because I could still probably mine some gold out of the original eleventh chapter.

"Okay," said Klaus. He turned to Violet. "Did the hook-handed man wake you up, too?"

"No," said Violet. "I tried to save Sunny with a grappling hook, and he caught me. So I guess we really _are _screwed."

"Could you invent something out of anything in this room?"

"Are you kidding? How the heck could I invent something out of markers, two pieces of paper, and a bunch of clothes?"

Klaus shrugged.

Sunny shrugged.

Violet sighed.

Hey, guys, should I throw in a random, irrelevant flashback just to make the chapter longer?

"No," Violet said in a grumpy voice. "I've had enough of those flashbacks. Can't you make up another happy ending for us? A _real _happy ending?"

Remember what I said last chapter? The readers wouldn't like it, and I wouldn't be able to do the sequels. Hmm…if I want to make the chapter longer, maybe I could just stretch out the sentences. You know, one word for every line?

Just

like

this.

Yeah!

That's

perfect!

I'll

write

like

this

so

the

chapter

can

be

longer!

Why

didn't

I

think

of

that

when

I

wrote

the

eighth

chapter?

Because

the

eighth

chapter

is

currently

the

shortest

one,

I

think.

But

I

could

be

wrong…

"But if you wrote like that, wouldn't it annoy the readers?" Klaus asked. "They'd have to scroll down the page just to finish reading one sentence."

Okay, fine. You win, smarty-pants. I won't type like that anymore.

Klaus smiled.

"I was thinking about something," Violet said. "If we had kerosene, we could make Molotov cocktails."

"What the heck is a Molotov cocktail?" Klaus asked. "And who's Molotov?"

"I…don't know," Violet admitted. "I was just saying what Random told me to say. Isn't a cocktail some kind of food-type thing?"

"It's an alcoholic drink," Klaus said. "And kerosene is a combustible liquid. If you mixed alcohol and kerosene, it would probably explode."

"Maybe that Molotov guy was an alcoholic pyromaniac," Violet said.

"How long is the hook-handed guy keeping us in here?"

"Probably until night falls."

They didn't talk for several hours until Klaus spoke up.

"I wish we were polygamists."

"Isn't that something out of Algebra or whatever?" Violet asked.

"No, you're thinking of polynomials," Klaus said. "A polygamist is someone who marries more than one person at the same time. That's illegal."

Ooh, I like polynomials…

Violet ignored me. "Who would want to marry more than one person at the same time?"

"There _are _some people out there who do that. Did you ever hear about that polygamist colony?"

"What polygamist colony?"

"Never mind."

They didn't talk for several _more _hours.

"What if we tried to kill Olaf?" Violet mused.

"How would we do that?" Klaus asked.

"Teeth!" Sunny suggested happily. She meant something along the lines of, "I bet I could use my teeth to kill him! It _is _possible to bite somebody to death, isn't it?"

"Well, I _did _hear about someone who was bitten to death," Klaus said. "How would Sunny escape from her cage and bite Olaf, though?"

Everyone was silent again as they pondered this. Nobody could come up with a good answer.

"We could break the bottles in half and use them as knives," Violet suggested.

"Jishna!" Sunny shrieked, which meant something like, "And we could cut Olaf's head off!"

"Sunny, when did you get so violent?" Klaus asked.

"Troque," Sunny explained, shrugging. She meant something along the lines of, "When an evil man's lackeys have locked you up in a cage, you start to plot revenge. And if you plot revenge, you start to get a little violent."

"Well, I have a less violent solution," Klaus said. "Violet, you could just say 'I don't' instead of 'I do.'"

"Oh, don't even try it!" said a voice from the doorway. Violet and Klaus looked over and saw that it was Count Olaf. They hadn't even been aware that he had come in. Did I even use proper grammar in that sentence? Never mind. "That's the oldest trick in the book. Plus, if you pulled something like that, I would see to it that Sunny was dropped to her doom."

"Figures," muttered Violet.

"Come on, kids! It's time for the show!" Olaf said. He pulled the two older Baudelaires up by their arms and dragged them off. Sunny waved at them as they left.

As they were dragged, Klaus knew they were utterly doomed and, yes, screwed. But Violet didn't think so. She remembered what Olaf had presented to her a couple of nights ago, and already a plan was formulating in her head. Nobody would see it coming!

Er…yes. How should I end this chapter?

"Just say 'the end of chapter eleven,'" Klaus said. "Or 'to be continued.'"

Okay, I guess I'll try that…

TO BE CONTINUED.

Eh, it'll do.

* * *

Author's Note: _IMPORTANT NOTE FOR READERS: This will be my last update for a while. I'm going on vacation next week, and I won't be able to update. Hopefully, this chapter will tide you over until I come back._


	12. Bust A Move, Baudelaires!

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler._

Author's Note: _In response to __**bscfangrl8**__: I don't think I could top the part where I picked on Klaus in Chapter 8, and I've never had an interest in picking on Sunny. By the way, I try to respond to any question that I feel I need to answer._

* * *

**Chapter 12: Bust A Move, Baudelaires!**

"You have to admit, being backstage at a theater is pretty awesome," Violet said.

"TRAITOR!" Klaus screamed, pointing at his sister and foaming at the mouth. Violet decided to ignore him until he could act normal.

As you can probably already guess, the two remaining Baudelaires were backstage at Olaf's theater. The play consisted of three acts, and Act Three should have been starting right about now, but the play had been delayed for hours and hadn't even started yet. The delays were the fault of Olaf's various lackeys, who couldn't prepare a theatrical production if their lives depended on it. It all started when the three short men tried to carry a large piece of wood that was to be used as a background. Their combined weight couldn't support it and it fell on top of them. Then Tocuna and Flo had gotten into the makeup and tried to make their faces even whiter, but somehow they succeeded in turning their faces green, so now they looked like they were going to be sick. And right now, Rope was having some trouble with the curtain.

"Why can't you pull the curtain down?" Olaf asked furiously.

"I don't know!" Rope said. "It worked fine when I tried it out yesterday!"

"Well, try harder," Olaf said.

Rope pulled on the rope that controlled the curtain, and she pulled on it so hard that the curtain had no choice but to go down. She smiled and brushed away a strand of short hair as she continued to pull. "It's working!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

At that moment, whatever was holding the curtain came undone and the curtain fluttered to the ground. Rope's mouth fell open.

Olaf rolled his eyes. "Hey, you two!" he snapped at Tocuna and Flo. "Get a new curtain!"

The green-faced women groaned in unison and stomped off.

Meanwhile, Wart Face was having some problems of his own. He stood on a ladder, messing about with some stubborn spotlights that refused to turn on. He glared at one spotlight and punched it, only to have it flicker and short out. Wart Face sighed, pulled out a screwdriver, and opened up a small compartment to fix the light, but ended up getting electrocuted and tumbling to the floor.

Despite the dread they felt, Violet and Klaus were having the time of their lives. They were laughing hysterically at everything the henchmen did wrong, and occasionally stopped laughing to make snide remarks about the troupe's ineptitude, which just made them start laughing again.

"I can't believe it! Olaf's friends are even dumber than I thought!" Klaus said.

"They make Olaf look smart, and that's saying something!" Violet said.

"'Sup, homefries! Whatcha laughin' about?"

Violet and Klaus stopped laughing and slowly turned around, hoping they hadn't just heard who they thought they'd heard. Their hopes were shattered. (In the distance, you could hear a hammer smashing against their hopes, which broke like glass.)

"Oh, hi, Mr. Poe," Klaus said without emotion.

Mr. Poe was wearing the outfit he'd been wearing when the Baudelaires visited him at the bank, but now he was wearing sunglasses and a brand-new gold medallion that had the words "Mister P" engraved on it. He smiled, revealing a couple of gold teeth. "Looks like you're gonna be in a play!" he said enthusiastically. "I hear this play's off the hizzle! Just wanted to tell ya to bust a move!"

"Oh, great. Now he's even _more _incomprehensible," Violet muttered.

"What does 'bust a move' mean?" Klaus asked.

"It means 'feel free to bust some killa dance moves,'" Mr. Poe said. "I'm gonna bust some moves myself. I came to ask Count O if I could be the opening act for his show, yo!"

Klaus and Violet exchanged worried glances.

"You're not…_serious _about that, are you?" Violet asked.

"I am fo' _rizzle_," Mr. Poe said, snapping his fingers.

Klaus took a deep breath. Even though he knew Mr. Poe was a total idiot, he decided to take another stab at telling him about how horrible Olaf was. "Mr. Poe," he began. "We have something to tell you."

Mr. Poe became very alert for a change. "What is it?" he asked. "I'm all ears!"

Suddenly, he turned into a giant ear.

"RANDOM!" Klaus and Violet screamed.

I know. That _was _really random, wasn't it?

The two Baudelaires glared at me.

Oh, wait. You were yelling at me, not pointing out the randomness of the situation. Am I right?

They continued to glare at me. Frankly, I was getting really creeped out.

Olaf came backstage. "Okay, so here's what's going on," he said to Violet and Klaus. "My troupe finally got their act together, if you'll pardon the joke, and the play is about to—" His eyes suddenly traveled over to the Poe-ear. "What is _that?_"

The Poe-ear morphed back into Mr. Poe, who seemed unaffected by his transformation. "'Sup, Count O!" he greeted. "I was just gonna ask if I could be the opening act for the show, ya know?"

Olaf looked at him weirdly. "Uh, well, as much as I'd like to put you in the play, I'm gonna have to say no."

"WHAT?" Mr. Poe shrieked. "Man, why you bein' a hater? I oughta mess you up for that comment, foo'!" He whacked Olaf upside the head. Violet and Klaus smothered their giggles.

"Oh, fine," the count said. "You can be in the show. Your performance will count as Act One."

Mr. Poe brightened. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" he said. "I'll be waitin' for the show to start! Bust a move, Baudelaires!" And with that, he left.

"Thank God he's gone," Olaf mumbled. "Now, as I was saying—"

"Oh, my gosh!" squealed a feminine voice. Justice Strauss came running toward Olaf and the Baudelaires, making excited little squeaks. "Oh, aren't you excited? The big night's finally here! Why aren't you in your costumes yet?"

"You know, that's a really good question!" Olaf said with fake enthusiasm, eager to make Justice Strauss go away. "And why aren't you wearing your makeup yet?"

"Oh, crap! I gotta go, kids! Bye!" the judge said, quickly running off.

Olaf faced Violet and Klaus again, and spoke quickly just in case anyone else came to interrupt. "The play's about to start, and you two come in at Act Three. Don't try to sabotage anything," he said. He left, and the green-faced women came with costumes.

Violet started to giggle. "Try not to vomit, you two," she joked.

"Did you eat something that didn't agree with you?" Klaus taunted.

"Aw, shut up," Tocuna said, glaring.

"Those jokes aren't even original," Flo said. "Not-Ted said those exact same things when he saw us. Here are your clothes." She threw a moldy white dress at Violet, and Tocuna tossed a dusty sailor suit at Klaus. The two women left, and the two Baudelaires reluctantly changed into their costumes.

"Do you think we should steal that green makeup the white-faced women had?" Violet asked. "Then we'll look sick, and maybe the play will be called off."

"Olaf would know what was going on," Klaus said, glumly.

"Act One of _The Marvelous Marriage_ begins now!" Olaf called, and he strutted out onto the stage. The audience clapped and cheered until they were silenced, and Olaf gave a short speech. "Due to a special request by an acquaintance of mine, Act One will be a musical act. This man is very, er, _talented_, and he wants to make himself known to the world. Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Mr. Poe!"

There was a long silence.

"Just clap, people. It'll make him happy," Olaf said.

The audience shrugged and started to clap loudly. Olaf walked away and Mr. Poe took over the stage. "'Sup, people?" he said. "I'm Mr. Poe, and I'm gonna perform my upcoming hit single, 'Mister P's In The House,' which is part of my upcoming CD, 'Mr. Poe Hollers'! Start the music, yo!"

Wart Face, who was acting as the DJ, started up some music. There was a lot of disc skipping, but luckily, this song didn't contain monkey noises like Mr. Poe's other song. Mr. Poe started to sing, and the Baudelaires weren't surprised to see that he hadn't improved one bit. "Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo!" he rapped. "Mister P's in the house! I share it with a mouse! My son's a stinky louse! Mister P's in the house! I got lots of money! My friends think I'm funny! Mister P's in the house!"

The song went on in this manner for quite some time, but soon the people in the audience got sick of it. They started to boo, hiss, and throw food. Mr. Poe kept singing for a while until a bunch of grapes hit his microphone and knocked it out of his hand.

"Ya'll are retarded!" he whined, getting tears in his eyes and running offstage.

Olaf came back onstage and picked up the microphone. "Uh…end of Act One!" he said. "Act Two will begin shortly!" He rushed offstage again.

The audience clapped, glad that Act One was over.

Backstage, everybody was scrambling to get in their places for Act Two, but then they realized they didn't even know what Act Two was supposed to be. A bunch of actors and stagehands got in a big huddle and wondered what to do.

"Maybe Act Two should be the wedding, instead of Act Three," said one actor.

"Maybe Act Two should be canceled, and we could just move ahead to Act Three," said one stagehand.

"Maybe Act Two should be another musical act," said another actor.

"Maybe Act Two should be a dancing act," said another stagehand.

"We could get a movie projector and show a movie."

"We could _make _a movie."

"We could just call the whole play off."

"We could read part of a book to the audience."

"We could read the _whole _book to the audience."

"We could put on an entirely different play."

"We could do an opera."

"We could serve everyone cookies."

"We could serve everyone brownies."

"We could serve everyone coffee."

"We could do a comedy act."

"We could film a commercial."

"We could—"

"SILENCE!" Olaf roared. "We could _not _do any of those things. Just be quiet and let me think."

Rope lifted up a plank of wood that was going to be used as a background, and found the three short men under it. But they weren't human anymore. The plank of wood had flattened them into literal pancakes when it fell on them. Rope smiled evilly and scooped them up.

"I've got an idea," she said, as the pancake-men squirmed in her grasp. "_Cannibalism_."

"What?" Olaf asked, puzzled. He peered at the pancake-men and gasped. "Are those my three short lackeys?"

"Yes, they are," Rope said. "And I'm going to eat them—partly because I'm hungry, and partly because cannibalism is the second-best thing to put in your play if it's lame."

"What's the first-best thing?" asked Olaf.

"Zombies," said Rope.

"Hey, give _me _a pancake!" said Not-Ted, the bald man. He took one of the pancake-men and started to eat it, but Rope stopped him. She told him to save it for the audience.

Olaf strutted out onto the stage and picked up the microphone. "Act Two of _The Marvelous Marriage _will begin now," he said. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for our amazing cannibals, Rope and Not-Ted!"

The audience clapped.

"'Amazing Actor Puts On Play About Cannibals'!" said Geraldine Julienne. "Wait 'til _The Daily Punctilio _hears about this!"

"Please, cannibalism is very entertaining, is it not?" said Madame Lulu.

"Plays about cannibals are _very _in!" said Esmé Squalor.

Olaf left, and Rope and Not-Ted went onstage.

"These pancakes used to be three short men who worked for Count—er, Al Funcoot," Not-Ted said.

"But since they're useless now, Mr. Funcoot has asked us to dispose of them," Rope said. She shoved two of the pancake-men in her mouth and swallowed them, and Not-Ted finished off the third one. The audience responded with wild applause. Rope and Not-Ted bowed and walked offstage.

Backstage, Klaus was shaking with fear. "Olaf hires _cannibals?_" he asked.

"Don't worry, it's just a publicity stunt," Violet assured him.

"Act Three of _The Marvelous Marriage _will begin shortly!" said Wart Face, who was carrying a clipboard. "Everyone get into their places! That means you, kids!" He put the clipboard in his mouth and started to push Violet and Klaus onto the stage.

"Wait!" Violet said. "I have to go to the bathroom! Both of us do!"

"But I don't have to—" Klaus began, then was cut off as Violet kicked him in the shins. "Er…yeah, I have to go, too."

Wart Face sighed. "Fine. Just don't soil your clothes. They're dirty enough as it is."

Violet dragged Klaus out of the theater and ducked into some bushes. "If we pretend we're going to the bathroom, then we can delay the play, and maybe they'll shut it down or something," she said.

"So you don't really have to go?" Klaus asked.

Violet suddenly looked like she wanted to die of embarrassment. "Uh…actually, I do, but I don't feel like going all the way back to Olaf's place," she admitted.

"Ew…" Klaus mumbled, looking away and shutting his eyes. When Violet had done her business, he turned around and the two sat in silence for about fifteen minutes until someone found them.

"Okay, you've had your chance, so let's head back to the theater," said Wart Face, dragging both siblings by the arm. When they got back to the theater, Olaf was glaring at them.

"You better not mess this up," he said.

"Oh, we won't," Violet said, faking innocence.

Klaus felt someone grab his arm. It was Not-Ted, and he dragged the poor boy to his place on the stage. "I'll be standing next to you for the entire play," the bald man said. "Olaf told me to make sure you didn't—"

"Mess this up?" Klaus finished, rolling his eyes.

Not-Ted blinked. "Am I really that predictable?" he asked.

"Not exactly. You're just not creative," Klaus said.

"I know," Not-Ted sighed. "Olaf won't lend me his copy of _Villain-Speak For Dummies_."

Olaf walked onstage and addressed the audience for the third and final time. "Ladies and gentlemen, here's the moment you've all been waiting for," he said, giving the audience what he thought was a dazzling smile (but it really wasn't). "Act Three of _The Marvelous Marriage_ begins now, starring Justice Strauss, Violet Baudelaire, a bunch of random wedding guests, and yours truly, Count Olaf!" He struck a pose and waited for applause.

The audience blinked and stared.

Olaf glared at them. "Clap, you silly fools, clap!" he hissed.

The audience blinked and stared some more.

Olaf rolled his eyes. "Let's just get this show on the road," he said in a defeated voice. He walked offstage, only to reappear onstage as the curtain rose. He was standing in front of a coffee table that was supposed to serve as an altar. Justice Strauss stood on the other side of the table, clutching a legal book. Violet stood off to the side, unsure of what to do.

"Uh, where am I supposed to stand?" she asked.

The audience laughed, thinking she was deliberately being funny. Olaf glared at her. "Come over here, next to me!" he said in a low voice, motioning for her to walk over to him. She shrugged and did as she was told.

Justice Strauss opened her big book and read from it, smiling brightly and doing a happy little jig. The thought of being in a play was so exciting to her that she didn't even consider the fact that Olaf might be doing something dastardly.

"Do you, Count Olaf, take this woman—sorry, _teenager_, to be your wife?" she recited.

"Yeah, sure," Olaf said quickly, hoping to hurry things along.

"And do you, Violet Baudelaire, take this…scraggly old guy to be your husband?" Justice Strauss asked. Olaf frowned at his unflattering description.

Violet didn't answer.

"Violet?" Justice Strauss said.

"Sorry, I'm just thinking about the question," Violet muttered absently.

The audience laughed again. Olaf narrowed his eyes. He didn't like it when others upstaged him.

"Sure, okay," Violet said, after a few minutes.

"Then I now pronounce you Count and Countess," said Justice Strauss. "Count Olaf, the ring, if you will?"

Klaus held his breath and Violet's hand trembled as Olaf placed the mood ring on her finger.


	13. And Now For The Grand Finale

Disclaimer: _A Series of Unfortunate Events belongs to Daniel Handler._

* * *

**Chapter 13: And Now For The Grand Finale**

"And now for the grand finale!" Olaf said.

Mr. Poe (who had been in the audience this entire time) mistakenly thought he was a part of the grand finale and ran onstage, grabbing the microphone that lay discarded on the floor. "Yo, yo! Time for the grand finale!" he sang. "Grand finale! Grand finale! My aunt's first name is Sally! Word up, dawgs!"

Someone in the audience responded by throwing a potato at him. He dropped the microphone and walked offstage, looking depressed.

Olaf picked up the microphone and spoke into it. "Ladies and gentlemen, the play is over!" he announced. "My marriage to Violet over here is legal and most certainly not fictional, and now I have control over her estate!"

The audience just stared.

"Huh?" someone asked.

The count rolled his eyes. "In other words, I actually married Violet, so now I get her money," he explained.

"You mean you're married to her in real life?" another audience member asked.

"Precisely!" said Olaf, grateful that somebody actually understood what he was trying to say.

"EW!" someone else screamed. "That's sick! That girl's, like, fourteen! She can't get married!"

"She can if she has her legal guardian's permission, and that's me!" Olaf grinned. "Just so you know, though, I have no personal interest in Violet. It's just the money I was after."

The crowd went wild, and not in a good way. They gasped in shock, then glared at Olaf and threw whatever food they had left at him. When they ran out of food, they used whatever trash was lying near their feet at the moment. A voice that sounded a lot like Mr. Poe's yelled, "Hey, that just ain't right!"

"STOP! STOP!" Justice Strauss yelled, standing in front of Olaf. The commotion ended and everyone's eyes went to her. She turned to Olaf and glared at him. "How can you possibly be married to her? You didn't even sign a legal document!"

"I put a ring on her finger," Olaf said.

"Just because you put a ring on her finger doesn't mean you're married to her," Justice Strauss said. "Both of you have to sign a legal document in your own hands. And neither of you guys even said 'I do'! You said, 'Yeah, sure,' and Violet said, 'Sure, okay.'"

"But shouldn't they mean the same thing?" Olaf asked.

Violet spoke up. "And that ring he gave me isn't even a real ring!" she said. "It's a mood ring!"

The crowd gasped again. "A mood ring?" someone repeated, outraged. "Why, that's a sorry excuse for a ring! He should have given her a big, sparkly, diamond ring!"

"No! He should have given her an emerald ring!" someone else shouted.

"No, a sapphire ring!" another person said, and everyone else took up the cry.

"A ruby ring!"

"A topaz ring!"

"An amethyst ring!"

"An onyx ring!"

"An opal ring!"

"A turquoise ring!"

"A garnet ring!"

While many of the audience members gave their opinions on what kind of ring Olaf should have given Violet, one audience member came up with an idea. "Hey, I know what to do!" he said. "Let's see what mood Violet's in. If she's in a good mood, that means she and Olaf can stay married. If she's in a bad mood, they have to separate."

"Good idea!" Olaf said. He turned to Violet. "So, Violet, what mood are you in?"

"Well, let me see," Violet said, looking at her ring. About two seconds later, she punched Olaf in the eye. He shrieked and fell backwards, his arms flailing in the air. His eye was swelling shut, and a black circle had already started forming around it.

"My ring is the same color as your eye, and that means I'm MAD!" Violet screamed. She showed him the ring, which had turned completely black.

"Go, Violet, go!" Klaus cheered. Not-Ted shushed him.

Olaf sat up and glared at Not-Ted, Rope, and the green-faced women. "You idiots!" he growled. "I told you it was a bad idea not to add in the legal document, but did you listen to me? _Noooooo!_"

"Sorry," Tocuna said timidly.

"Evil minions don't apologize," Flo reminded her.

Olaf was very angry, to say the least. His whole face had turned purple with anger (except for his black eye) and he pulled out a walkie-talkie. "Well, since you brats aren't willing to comply," he snapped, "I guess we're going to have to say good-bye to little Sunny!" He smiled to himself, glad that he had remembered the words from _Villain-Speak For Dummies_.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Violet and Klaus shrieked in slow motion.

"Akipa!" said a voice, meaning something along the lines of, "Not so fast!"

Everyone in the theater turned around to see Sunny Baudelaire, who was leaning on her knees with her hands on her hips.

"SUNNY!" Violet squealed with joy.

"How did you get out of the cage?" Klaus asked.

"Hijanook," Sunny said, meaning something like, "I discovered that the bars of the cage were soft enough for me to bite through. That stupid hook-handed man didn't even notice!"

"Where were you hangin', Sunny?" Mr. Poe asked.

"Olaf had her tied up in a cage, and he dangled her out a tower window!" Klaus said.

Mr. Poe looked at Olaf with a surprised expression on his face. "You gotta be kiddin'!" he said. "That's so not right, that's not even _right!_"

"Yeah, what he said!" the audience agreed.

"Order in the theater! Order in the theater!" Justice Strauss said, banging her legal book on the table as if it were a gavel. "It's settled, then. I will take care of the kids, and Count Olaf will go to jail."

"Yay!" cheered Klaus and Sunny.

"Oh, thank you so much, Random!" Violet said. "Finally, our happy ending has come!"

Uh, _sure_, Violet. You're welcome.

At this point, I will grant you, the readers, special permission to stop reading this fanfiction. You may click the little red X in the top right-hand corner or hit the Back button in the top left-hand corner. I will allow you to pretend to yourself that the Baudelaires went to live with Justice Strauss, Count Olaf and his lackeys were sent to jail, Mr. Poe released a hit rap CD and made a deal with a record label, and I made myself an awesome, top-secret lair in the CIA's basement. But if you plan to read ahead, I will tell you this: while everyone else was distracted, Wart Face snuck onto the stage and shut the lights off. Thanks to him, there was pandemonium in the theater.

"Good job, Wart Face! Let's skedaddle!"

"Where's the door?"

"Hey, who turned out the lights?"

"Oh, my gosh! I think I just peed my pants!"

"Who's poking me?"

"We have a situation!"

"Someone stepped on my foot!"

"Edgar, where the heck are you?"

"Over here, Albert!"

"I'm afraid of the dark!"

"Eleven-thirty p.m., I am approaching the exit to the theater…"

"Ew, somebody drooled on me!"

"This is horrible! I can't put on my makeup when it's dark!"

"'Power Failure Interrupts Play About Cannibalism And Marriage'! Wait 'til _The Daily Punctilio _hears about _that!_"

Luckily, Violet had seen Wart Face turn the lights off out of the corner of her eye, and she made her way across the stage. She flipped one switch, but that turned the air conditioning on. She shut that one off and flipped the second switch, and light flooded the theater. Everyone found that Count Olaf, Wart Face, Not-Ted, Rope, Tocuna, and Flo were gone. Fernald and the he-she were probably gone by now, too.

"Man, this sucks!" Mr. Poe said.

"Not completely," said Violet.

"Yeah," agreed Klaus. "We get to live with Justice Strauss!"

"Jicka!" said Sunny, which meant something like, "Maybe our lives will be better now!"

"Can I take them home, Mr. Poe?" Justice Strauss asked.

"'Fraid not, homegirl," said Mr. Poe. "The 'rents said they gotta be raised by relatives. Get into the car, kids!"

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny all groaned. Violet picked Sunny up, and the three siblings made their way out of the theater and into Mr. Poe's car. As Mr. Poe climbed in the driver's seat, Justice Strauss came outside and waved at them.

"Good-bye, Baudelaires!" she called.

"Bye, Justice Strauss!" Klaus said.

"We'll miss you!" Violet said.

"Piko!" Sunny shrieked, which meant, "We'll send you a postcard!"

Mr. Poe started the car up and drove for two blocks until he crashed into a pole.

**The End.**

* * *

**Epilogue**

The reason it had taken six weeks for Lemony Snicket and Random Little Writer's meeting to take place was because the printout of _The Badly Written Beginning _had gotten lost. Random had printed her story out, stapled the separate pages together, and sent it to Lemony's office at HarperCollins, but it somehow ended up being sent to Germany. After a kindly person had sent it back to America from Berlin, it was sent to the home of someone named Melanie Cricket, who was certainly not affiliated with Lemony Snicket in any way. Melanie took the printout to the post office, where a postal worker accidentally tossed it into the garbage can. There was quite a controversy over it, and the worker ended up getting fired. A much smarter postal worker found the printout and sent it to Lemony's office with no problem, where the mysterious author finally read the parody of his first novel. A week later, Random was found at an airport, trying to flee to Langley, Virginia, yet again. Now she was in Lemony's office.

Random Little Writer was a tall, bespectacled teenager with short dark hair, clad in a green shirt and black pants. She sat in a chair across from Lemony, who was re-reading her work. A nervous feeling was settling in the pit of her stomach and she kept picking at her lip, even though she'd promised herself she wouldn't do that anymore. She scouted the room for possible escapes and trash cans to use on the off chance that she threw up out of pure anxiety.

She jumped a bit when Lemony finally put the printout on his desk and faced her. "Miss Writer," he began.

"Oh, you can just call me Random, Mr. Snicket," Random said, trying to break the ice.

"Very well," Lemony said. "Random, I must admit that I found your parody of my work quite amusing. However, there are a few things I feel you should improve."

"Okay," Random said agreeably. A little improvement never hurt anyone, right? "May I ask what they are?"

"There are only two things I want to talk about." Lemony slid the printout over to her and pulled up a handful of pages, revealing the first page of the fifth chapter. "The first thing I want to address is your use of references to films, books, and other things that you like," he said. "In this chapter especially, there are quite a few references to your obsession with the Central Intelligence Agency and your love for the films about Jason Bourne. One of your chapters includes an allusion to the novel _Coraline_. In the thirteenth chapter, there is a reference to the trailer for an upcoming film entitled _The Informant!_. There are more, but I believe you understand what I'm saying."

Random nodded, her face becoming red with embarrassment. She knew she'd gone overboard on the movie references.

"Try to keep these allusions to a minimum," Lemony told her. "They tend to detract from the story."

She nodded again.

Lemony let go of some pages until he came to the first page of the second chapter. "The second and final thing I would like to address is your fussing over continuity errors," he said. "This is a parody. Not everything has to make sense, chronologically or otherwise."

"I know," Random said. "But I want to write books someday, and I want to practice being consistent."

"It's a good thing to want consistency in a story, but in parodies, the readers could care less about chronological order," Lemony said. He let the rest of the printout's pages fall and stuffed the printout inside a file cabinet next to his desk. "Thank you for coming to see me, Random. I hope you will consider my suggestions. You may go."

"Thank you," Random muttered absently, and walked out of the office.

* * *

Author's Note: _Sorry about how rushed and short this chapter seemed. I was in a hurry to finish, I guess._

_Unfortunately, that's the end of this story, but there will be more to come. Will the Baudelaires ever find happiness? Will Count Olaf and his henchmen ever get smarter? Will Mr. Poe's singing ever improve? Will I ever take over the CIA? Find out in my next ASOUE parody, __**The Revised Reptile Room**__, coming soon to FanFiction(.)Net!_

_Thanks to all my reviewers for supporting this story, and be on the lookout for the sequels and any other fanfictions by me!_


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